


The Haunted

by Emily_F6



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: IronDad and SpiderSon, Irondad, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2020-11-23 04:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20886068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily_F6/pseuds/Emily_F6
Summary: The safe house had a name.  Had been given a name long before it had become a Shield safe house.  Not that the name 'Hill House' meant anything to Peter...but he did wonder who gave their house a name.  Any why it was always so cold.





	1. Hill House

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I started writing this before Endgame came out, so although it takes place after Endgame, we're pretty much ignoring it. The rundown: Carol did the snap. Tony and Pepper are married but did not have children. Cassie is ten. If you haven't watched The Haunting of Hill House, the story has almost nothing to do with the show, but will take place in the house :)

"Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone."

Peter closed his eyes as he rested his head against the car window, the hum of the car practically putting him to sleep, which could be dangerous. He didn't want to sleep. Couldn't risk it, not in a car with other people. In the front seat, Mr. Stark kept his hand on the wheel, but he could feel the man's eyes on him. The worried glances and the gentle shoulder squeezes...those had certainly increased in frequency since Peter had...had...come back? Come back to life? Honestly, he didn't remember much between dissolving in Mr. Stark's arms and waking up on Titan…

Nothing he wanted to remember.

Peter tried to push the thought away...tried not to think about watching the woman, Carol Danvers, snap her fingers, and watching all the monsters disappear and then Mr. Stark finding him again and throwing his arms around him...taking his sleeve and gently wiping the blood from his face...helping him limp to the sidelines and sitting down beside him, an arm around his shoulders holding him close.

"I love you, kiddo. I love you so much. I missed you..." He'd whispered. They'd stayed right there, sitting in the middle of the rubble, until May had been brought to the compound and still he'd hovered, still not seeming to want to let Peter out of his sight. Not that Peter had minded.

And now, they were all going to be spending the whole summer together.

He glanced up at the rearview mirror and met Mr. Stark's eyes, giving him a quick smile before placing his head back against the window, making sure to keep his feet close to the seat so as not to knock into the back of Captain America's chair. He was fine. Just...tired. And guilty. He couldn't help it. Couldn't help feeling like this was his fault. His fault that Mr. Stark had to leave his wife and that the others had to leave their friends and families and hide out until things settled down.

One panic attack (that Mr. Stark and his aunt knew of). One minor freak out and one mistake…

He should have been able to handle Mysterio...no, Beck...on his own. He should have been able to stop him. Should have known who he was and that he couldn't be trusted. How could he have let himself...

"Pete?" Peter blinked a few times, realizing that he'd zoned out.

"Huh?"

"I asked if you needed to stop." Mr. Stark repeated. Steve glanced over his shoulder, looking open and friendly and not at all like he blamed Peter for all of this. Not at all like this was all Peter's fault. Which it was.

He'd managed to take down Beck with some help. The Avengers had assembled. Well...not all of them. But still. Enough of them. And...and there had been damage. Property damage. In a foreign country. And Nick Fury had suggested they lie low for a few months while he took up the battle with Ross and another version of the Accords and the UN, despite the fact that they'd saved the world not two months ago...and if Peter had just…

"No. I'm good." Peter forced a smile and waved him off.

"Alright. We should be there in about an hour. What about you, Cap? Think you can hold it that long." Peter had to smile when Steve snorted. The two of them weren't exactly best friends...but Peter could tell that they were doing better. Apparently saving the world together had helped heal some of the hard feelings there...not that Peter knew everything that had happened. Still, they'd been working together to reverse the snap. Maybe they'd officially made up at some point.

Nick Fury had split them up into groups, and the plan was to send them to various safe houses around the country. Clint was with his family somewhere, Peter assumed. Natasha, who had reappeared when Carol had snapped her fingers, was with Bruce somewhere else. And he had worried that Nick Fury would send him somewhere alone or with one of the other Avengers, but Mr. Stark had stepped in, insisting that Peter be with him. Demanded. He wasn't supposed to be listening...no one had intended for him to hear that particular phone call. But he thought that they might have forgotten about his super-hearing.

Peter had been in the living room of the tower, curled up on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket. He hadn't been able to sleep the night before...or any night, really, and had been trying to catch up on some sleep, when he'd heard Mr. Stark's voice from the other room.

"He's coming with me." Mr. Stark's voice had been steady and almost angry, but not quite.

"Tony…" The man had started.

"He helped save the fucking world, Nick. He's seventeen years old and he's not spending the summer with someone he doesn't know. You're sending him with me."

Mr. Stark had come into the living room after that conversation, dropping onto the sofa beside him and putting an arm around his shoulders. "How are you doing, Pete?" He'd asked as if nothing in the world could be the matter. As if everything was totally normal.

"I'm fine." Peter had assured. He was always assuring everyone that he was fine, ever since coming back to life on Titan. That he hadn't started having nightmares every night of some strange darkness...of being cold and alone and afraid and screaming...screaming for Mr. Stark or even Doctor Strange...anyone that would help him. Get him out of that terrible cold nothingness.

He'd been staying at the tower several days a week since returning from the dead, and he wasn't sure when Mr. Stark and his aunt had made some kind of agreement, but it was practically like a custody arrangement. Some days he spent with May, others with Mr. Stark, both of them watching him like a hawk to make sure he was eating and sleeping enough, neither of which he was doing. Peter was just glad that his secret identity was still safe and that May wouldn't have to leave her job over the summer to hide out with them...that her life wouldn't be inconvenienced because of him.

Things were weird now. He'd admit it. Things were weird now that he was back and five years had passed and he'd just tried to go on a school trip and he'd tried to act like everything was normal but it wasn't. Everything wasn't normal. Happy was staying with May and the two of them were together and he had failed and he had weird episodes where his heart would start racing and Mr. Stark said that it was PTSD and asked if he wanted to talk but Peter didn't want to...Peter just wanted things to go back to normal.

He just wanted to be normal again.

The Avengers had all met about a week ago to find out where they'd be staying, Mr. Fury giving them all instructions for what they could and could not do while laying low, which meant no patrols for Peter (or anyone else). No posting on social media (for Spiderman...or anyone else. But mostly Spiderman.) No going out in public at all, really...except for Peter, in that instance. No one knew who Peter was, but Fury still wanted to be careful, just in case Beck had told anyone else his identity.

That was when he'd first met Cassie. She had been sweet, taking to him immediately and asking a million questions about his suit and his webs. According to her dad,ever since seeing a picture of Spiderman online where he'd saved a cat from a tree, Cassie had idolized him. And she'd been thrilled to actually meet him.

It was actually really sweet. He had even heard Scott confiding in Mr. Stark that Cassie had a poster of Spiderman in her room. He and Cassie had been sitting on the sofa in the tower, some cartoons that he hadn't recognized on the TV, while Mr. Fury had been briefing the other adults. Where the girl had gotten a Spiderman poster, Peter wasn't sure, but apparently she'd told all of her classmates that her dad knew the web-slinging hero and was now the most popular girl in school, which was cool with Peter as long as Cassie didn't give away his identity, which he was sure he wouldn't do.

He'd felt sort of like a little kid at that point...like it was Thanksgiving and he had been relegated to the kid's table. Before everything that had happened, that would have bothered him. Would have made him feel indignant and frustrated...he might have whined about it, or insisted on joining the adults in the other room. At the moment, though, all he'd wanted to do was listen to Cassie talk and let the real adults handle this. He'd already proven that he couldn't handle things himself. Had already proven that he was a screw-up.

He'd shaken that thought off and had focused instead on Cassie...on chatting with her and watching cartoons and letting someone else take care of him.

The car pulled up to a huge gate with a padlock, and Peter stared at it, surprised at it's height...and how creepy it was. Like something straight out of a horror movie. Mr. Stark his the brakes and climbed out to unlock it with a huge metal key given to him by Nick Fury, and Peter peered around Steve's shoulder to try and see the house. He couldn't see it though...not yet. He glanced over at his bag beside him. A suitcase stuffed with clothes and a charger for his phone, which Mr. Stark had promised to fix up so that no one could trace it, but he'd still been cautioned not to post anything revealing their location, or tell anyone where they were. Nick Fury was really worried about things like that.

Peter grabbed the bottle of soda that Mr. Stark had bought him at a gas station, and drained the rest of it, resting his head against the back of the seat and closing his eyes again. He wanted to sleep. He needed to stay awake. It had been a long drive after an emotional goodbye to May, but he couldn't let himself sleep. Not yet.

Mr. Stark was back in the car after a moment, driving through the gate, and Peter could feel his eyes on him. Could feel the worry radiating off of him, just like it had radiated off of May ever since he'd seen her for the first time. Ever since that first night in the Tower, which Mr. Stark had bought back at some point, and which had guest rooms for both him and May, since their apartment had been rented to someone else during the five years that they'd been gone, she had been looking at him that way. Laying in bed among their boxes of things that Mr. Stark had saved from the apartment, he had woken up screaming at three in the morning, and she had been at his side immediately, a hand pressed to his face, shushing him gently.

He'd all but shoved her away, gasping for air and staring blindly at the ceiling until Mr. Stark had run in, dressed in pajamas and actual slippers, placing his hands on Peter's shoulders and restraining him when he went to fight him off. He hadn't seen Mr. Stark...not at first. Just darkness and a figure standing over him. "Kid...hey...you're okay." He'd murmured in a voice that had been strangely gentle. Not that Mr. Stark had been mean to him before. But still...it had been new and strange and...nice. Really nice, once he'd relaxed enough to hear him. "You're alright, Pete. It was just a nightmare. You're safe."

But was he?

Peter blinked in surprise as they approached the house, sitting straight up and staring at the humongous old building, the gables blocking out the bright summer sky. It was blue and cloudless, typical for a warm June day, but Peter felt cold all of a sudden. The hairs on his arms stood straight up, and he shivered, wishing he'd thought to grab a blanket.

They pulled up to the house, Mr. Stark parking under a carpark, followed by the other car, driven by Rhodey with Scott and Cassie in the back seat. As everyone climbed out of their cars, Peter continued to stare, feeling his own jaw drop as he stood and craned his neck to see the whole thing. It was...huge. Bigger than any actual house he'd ever seen...it was a mansion! It wasn't in great shape...it looked like one or two of the windows were boarded up, and the landscaping out front was overrun with weeds that choked out the decorative shrubs and flowers.

Almost without him noticing, the others joined him in his gawking.

"This house looks haunted," Cassie told the group, voice skeptical as she broke the silence, a backpack slung over her shoulder. Beside Peter, Mr. Stark was giving the house his own grim look but he snorted a little at the girl's announcement.

"It's not haunted, Cassie." The man assured her. The look she gave him was nothing short of disbelieving as only a ten-year-old could look.

"I don't want to live here. Ghosts live here." She announced as they all began to move forward toward the house...which felt wrong, somehow. Wrong and scary and Peter wanted to turn around and get back in the car. Get Mr. Stark to drive him home. Beg the man to take him home. But he swallowed that fear as Mr. Stark wrapped an arm around his shoulders, patting him on the arm and pulling him forward.

Steve chuckled, him and Rhodey exchanging glances. But could they feel it, Peter wondered. Could they feel how cold it was? He wanted to open his suitcase and pull out his favorite hoodie...wrap it around himself and pull the hood up. It was so, so cold.

"There's no such thing as ghosts, sweetie," Scott assured his daughter, and Cassie gave him a doubtful look, turning to Peter instead who tried to hide the goosebumps raising up on his arms and the twinge of fear from his spider-senses, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. No doubt he was just cold. And tired. It had been such a long drive, and he was just about ready for a nap.

But Cassie was looking up at him, skeptical and worried, so Peter made himself grin down at the girl. "He's right. No ghosts." Remembering their early morning stop at a grocery store where no one had given them a second glance, he crouched down a little, lowering his voice as if confiding a secret. "But I did bring the stuff to make cocoa. Wanna help me make some?"

The ten-year-old lit up then, readily grabbing the hand Peter held out. "Yeah!" She cried, hurrying along beside him as they all made their way through the huge double doors.

Peter made good on his promise, grabbing mugs from the partially stocked kitchen and heating up milk on the stove while Cassie dug through one of the grocery bags for the cocoa mix. They didn't have a microwave, which made Mr. Stark grumble, so he made enough for him too, hoping to cheer him up. He chuckled when Peter ladled the first mug and held it out to him. "Thanks, kid." He grinned, taking a sip.

"This place has WiFi, right?" He asked, handing Cassie a mug that the girl blew in, then poured mugs for the others, figuring they could use it considering how cold the room was. Why was it so cold, he wondered as he took a drink of his own hot chocolate. There was no reason for it to be so cold.

Mr. Stark put his tablet on the table, waiting for a call from Nick Fury now that they had arrived at the safe house. "Thankfully, yes. We're going to set up one of the rooms as a lab, and we will have a secure connection to the internet. Friday is setting herself up as we speak." Peter glanced around the fully stocked kitchen, watching Mr. Stark tap away at his tablet as he drank the hot chocolate.

There were only five of them in the kitchen, but the room felt full. Stuffed to capacity. Almost claustrophobic.

The chime of the tablet distracted Peter from the strange thought. The kitchen wasn't that crowded...it was a big room. A big house. He was sure that Mr. Stark was used to bigger places, but this was a mansion to him. Why had he thought it was crowded when everyone was so spread out? There was so much room! So much air to breathe. Still, he opened a window over the sink a little with shaking hands to let some fresh air in.

Mr. Stark answered the call, revealing Mr. Fury. Agent Fury. Whatever. He rarely interacted with Peter, especially after the whole fiasco with Beck, and the agent was intimidating enough that he was fine with that. The man asked Mr. Stark about setting up Friday and the house, but hesitated when he caught sight of Cassie, throwing Scott a look. Had he not wanted Cassie at the safehouse either?

"Hey, sweetheart, why don't you go check out your room?" Scott suggested, seeming to catch on immediately. Cassie scowled.

"I wanna hear what's going on." She told her father, arms crossed, lips turned down in a pout. "I'm ten! I'm big enough!"

"Pumpkin, I need to have a meeting right now, and it's…". The man trailed off, throwing Fury a pleading look the man barely acknowledged.

"This meeting is for Avengers only, Miss Lang." Fury told the child in his usual deadpan. Peter could see on the girl's face that she was about to argue, so he hopped out off the stool he'd been perching on, glad to have an excuse to get out of the room. Away from Nick Fury and this kitchen that felt so claustrophobic.

"Come on, Cassie. Let's go explore," Peter offered, ignoring the grateful look Scott threw him as he grabbed Cassie's hand.

"But I want to know what Mr. Fury is saying." She whined. Honestly, Peter probably needed to know what he was saying. It was probably important. But the ten-year-old was tired and bored and Peter felt for her. Besides, Mr. Stark would fill him in on the important stuff. A glance at the man assured him that this was true. And he wanted out of this freezing room.

"Mr. Fury is boring," Peter assured the girl with a grin. "Trust me, I had to listen to him a few days ago, and he goes on forever." On the screen set up on the table, the man in question lifted an eyebrow, but he didn't let himself get distracted, even when Steve chuckled under his breath. "Wanna see if we can find any secret rooms?" The girl bit her lip, glancing over at her father, clearly torn between wanting to be in the know and exploring with her second favorite superhero. Finally, she nodded.

"Yeah!" With that, Cassie hopped off her own stool, following Peter out of the kitchen and into the huge foyer where the grand staircase led up to the second floor, where all of their bedrooms apparently were.

He felt a little better, but not much. They were in an open space, but Peter still felt surrounded.

Back in the kitchen, he could hear Mr. Fury talking to the others from the tablet. Peter pointed to the far wall, hoping to distract Cassie from the conversation she wasn't supposed to be overhearing, the two of them moving deeper into the cold room and further away from the kitchen. "That's cool…we have a fireplace! I've never had a fireplace before," he said, trying to insert excitement into his voice. Trying to push past that feeling that had been in his chest for weeks. Cassie needed him to be excited, so he would be excited.

Cassie wandered obligingly closer, glancing back at him before kneeling in front of the grate to get a closer look, her fingers resting on the black metal.

Suddenly, Peter's spider-sense shot a warning up his spine and he jerked his head around, sure he'd seen something in the corner of his eye. Goosebumps erupted on his arms and he rubbed his hands over them in a feeble attempt to warm them, wishing that they could go back to the kitchen…back to safety.

"Peter," the girl called, looking up worriedly from her spot beside the fireplace, and Peter had to fight the urge to grab her…to pull her away from the logs that looked like teeth and the windows that stared down at them like wide, hungry eyes framing a gaping mouth that would surely devour the little girl and him too if they didn't get out of there!

"Let's go see what else we can find, huh?" Peter asked, his voice oddly uneven. Almost fearful sounding. Cassie hesitated, then stood, nodding up at him. In the room beyond them, he could see a spiral staircase and figured that would be safe. "Look!" He pointed, and Cassie's eyes lit up in curiosity.

"Woah! Look at that!" And then, Cassie was taking off through a room with a sofa and a few chairs that was lined with wall to wall bookcases, racing towards the dark metal staircase, Peter hurrying after her and trying to get over the sense that they were being watched.

It's nothing, he told himself. He was being ridiculous. Climbing the stairs behind her, the two of them moving in tight circles, he did his best to ignore the dread unfolding in his stomach.

Thank you for reading!


	2. Surrounded

Cassie raced up the metal spiral staircase, her footsteps too loud for the too-quiet house. Peter shook that thought away. It wasn’t that quiet. He could hear all the normal house noises...pipes, the house settling, the hum of the air conditioning. He could also hear Mr. Stark and the others in the other room, all of them talking to Nick Fury. Nick Fury, who was telling them important things about the safe house and the situation with the rest of the Avengers...but Peter couldn’t bring himself to listen. Couldn’t bear to think about what he’d done...how he’d failed. 

He tried to focus on the stairs...on Cassie, who was hurrying up to the second floor. All around them were old bookcases filled with old books, all covered in dust. He hurried to keep up with her, turning his mind from the books to the girl he was following as they reached the top, the two of them pausing on what looked like a balcony that led to a corridor. A long corridor...and at the end of the corridor was a door. A single red door. Cassie took off toward it immediately, but Peter felt nothing but dread. Sick, painful dread that coiled in his stomach and kept him frozen while Cassie grabbed the doorknob that was shaped like a lion’s head. She twisted and pulled, but apparently there was no give.

“Can you open it?” She asked, turning back to him, and he forced his feet forward. Forced himself to give an imitation of a smile. 

“I can try.” He told her, moving closer when all he wanted to do was run. Get out...get out of this house and away from the red door that Cassie couldn’t open and that he didn’t want to open. He didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to think about what was behind the red door at the top of a staircase in a library full of old books and monsters.

Monsters? Peter shook his head a little, smiling a little more to make up for the strange, dark thoughts. There were no monsters. He wasn’t a little kid. He didn’t believe in monsters. He believed in science. Mr. Stark would think he was being stupid. And he was. Monsters weren’t real. He knew better.

“Alright. Let’s see.” He made a show of stretching, lifting his arms over his head, and Cassie giggled, stepping back to give him room, practically bouncing on her toes. He grinned at her, then reached for the doorknob, forcing himself to grip the cold metal. He shuddered, but hide it, turning the knob...but it just wiggled back and forth, the deadbolt remaining where it was. He wiggled it again, putting some of his strength into it...but it was stuck fast. 

The doorknob was cold, suddenly. So cold...like the cold that surrounded him in this dead house, and he jerked his hand away. “Sorry, Cass.” He told the girl beside him, his voice sounding faint in his own ears. “Sorry...I can’t get it open. And I don’t want to break it. I think Agent Fury might get mad. So why don’t we go find our bedrooms instead?” 

He didn’t know what force it was that made her agree instead of insisting that she wanted him to force the door open. He remembered being a kid...when he’d felt like a kid. Remembered wanting to know everything, every secret and every hidden thing. But Cassie just nodded, and the two of them headed downstairs and through the dusty library, Peter hesitating for just a second at the top of the staircase before following her down the spiral staircase, and then up the huge, sweeping stairs that led to the second floor. That was where their bedrooms were, according to Mr. Stark, and although Peter had no idea whose bedroom was who’s, but he supposed it didn't matter, not if they were just exploring.

The second floor was a long, dark corridor, and Peter had to suppress a shudder. Scolding himself for being stupid, he switched on the lights, following Cassie as she ran from room to room, poking her nose in all of them. If they were interesting, she would run in, jumping up on sheet-covered beds, or opening empty closets. 

He followed her around dutifully, wishing he had more hot chocolate...or a sweater. He was freezing! Cassie seemed fine though, and when they’d finally looked at every bedroom on the second floor, Peter paused, listening. He could hear the others talking, but Nick Fury wasn’t audible anymore. He headed out to the hall, leaving Cassie to explore a trunk full of old clothes, and listened. 

No more Nick Fury. Just Steve and Scott saying something about groceries, and then Mr. Stark telling Rhodey he was going to ‘find the kids.’ 

Any other time, Peter might have balked at the description of himself as a kid. Now, shoving thoughts of Titan and Thanos and Beck back, he was...well, not happy with it. Numb. Indifferent. Better a kid than the screw up who’d landed them all here.

Hoping to save the man a trip, he stuck his head back in the bedroom, only to find Cassie holding a little teacup, staring at it in wonder. “Cas? You ready to head down? I think the others want to get settled in.”

“Look! It’s a cup of stars!” He joined her, peering down into the cup. 

“Yeah. That’s pretty cool.”

“I want to drink out of it.”

He shrugged. “Bring it down with you and we can wash it.” He told her, and she nodded, clutching her cup as they hurried back down the stairs, nearly running into Mr. Stark who had just turned the corner. 

“There you are. We’re going to have to carry walkie talkies in this place until I get Friday set up.” He joked, squeezing Peter’s shoulder and then smiling down at Cassie. “What did you find?”

“A cup of stars!” She cried, tilting it so that he could see inside. 

“Nice. Did it come in a set?” She shrugged. “You’ll have to keep exploring. Maybe we can all drink out of star cups this summer.” He grinned and Cassie did too. “You wanna go show your dad and wash it?” 

“Yeah!” And then Cassie was off, leaving Peter alone with Mr. Stark. The man’s smile softened a little, and he ducked his head to peer at Peter. 

“How you doing, Pete?”

“Fine.” He shrugged. Mr. Stark didn’t seem convinced, though, so he kept going. “I think I’m just tired from the drive.”

“Why don’t we go claim rooms before the rest of those heathens beat us to it? You already find the good rooms?” At that, Peter couldn’t help but smile as he nodded. 

He led Tony back up the stairs, goosebumps erupted on his skin. It was so cold...and so...something. Something he couldn’t put a name to. But he hated it. Hated the feeling of something touching his skin even when nothing was there. So he focused on Mr. Stark hurrying behind him, and his footsteps, and the stairs that freaked just a little. 

The bedroom he wanted for himself, though he’d never admit it, was at the end of the hallway, right before a corridor that turned and ended abruptly, as if the builders had forgotten that corridors should lead somewhere. There was a king-sized bed against the wall, and beside it, a strange cone-shaped thing jutting from the wall. He liked the room for some reason...and there was a door on the side of the room that he figured was a second closet. It was a bigger room than he’d ever slept in, other than the one at the tower that he’d slept in maybe once or twice.

Mr. Stark took the room across the hall, throwing Peter another concerned look but not asking. It seemed like the man was giving him space but Peter was sure that sooner or later, that would end, and then the man would start asking him questions that he didn’t want to answer. That he didn’t know how to answer. 

He’d just pulled out his phone to send a text to Ned, laying on his stomach holding the phone up to his face, when there was a knock on his closet door. He froze, glancing up and feeling his stomach drop. He threw a glance at the window, comforted for some reason that it was still light outside. But of course it was...and Peter wasn’t afraid of the dark. Shaking his head, he jumped up, moving to the closet door, grasping the know, and, ignoring his pounding heart, he yanked it open, only to jump when he came face to face with Cassie.

Swallowing a word that he probably wasn’t allowed to say in front of a ten-year-old, he made himself smile. “Hi...why are you in my closet?” He asked, wondering if this was what if was like to have a little sister. It was kind of nice, even if he did now need to be careful about remembering to lock his door.

“It’s not! Look!” She cried, then stepped aside so that he could see that she was actually standing in the doorway to the bedroom she’d claimed. “They’re connected! Like a hotel!”

“Wow.” He said, not sure what else to say...feeling like he had been drained of all energy. “Pretty cool.” 

“I’m going to look around some more! You wanna come?”

“Uh, not right now, Cass. I think I’m going to lay down.” She paused, frowning at him.

“Are you sick?”

“Maybe a little. I’ll feel better when I wake up.”

“Okay.” She smiled, shutting the door that connected their rooms.

Peter crashed, throwing himself on the bed, throwing the dusty sheet that had been used to protect it on the ground. After shooting a quick text to Ned telling him they were safe and asking what was up, he closed his eyes. The next thing he knew, someone was touching his hair. He jumped a little, blinking in the dark room and looking up to find Mr. Stark sitting on the bed beside him. 

“Hey, kiddo. Cassie said you weren’t feeling well.” He murmured, and Peter realized that the curtains were closed, but it was still light outside. “You alright?”

He nodded, wiping a hand over his face. “Yeah...I think I was just tired.” He lied a little, starting to sit up. Mr. Stark put a hand on his back, helping him sit up, and Peter leaned against the pillows, feeling oddly disoriented. 

“Pete?” He looked up, pushing his hair back. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah...yeah, I’m fine.”

“I don’t mean…” The man sighed. “Look, Pete, all of this...it wasn’t your fault.” Peter must not have been able to hide his look of disbelief because the man went serious, leaning in and reaching out, squeezing his shoulder. “Peter. Buddy...this wasn’t your fault.”

“I messed up…”

“So what? Peter, I’ve messed up a million times. No one blames you for this.”

“I couldn’t take Beck on my own.”

“So what?” 

“So I’m supposed to be a superhero and I screwed everything up and ruined everything and now we all have to stay in this creepy house!” Tony was silent for a moment, and Peter hated himself for blurting all that crap out and then crying like a baby and he dropped his head into his hands, feeling everything hit him. “I’m...I’m sorry.”

“Kiddo.” The man said softly, shifting so that he could put his arm around Peter’s shoulders, and he turned his face to hide in Mr. Stark’s shoulder. He couldn’t stop crying all of a sudden...couldn’t help the sobs that made his whole body shake.

“It was five years...but...but I remember turning to dust and then coming back and we had to fight him again and...then Beck and…” He didn’t realize he was hyperventilating until Mr. Stark put a firm hand on his chest, taking Peter’s own hand and pressing it to his chest.

“Easy, buddy. Breathe with me, okay? In and out...slow. In...and out. There you go. Keep breathing, Pete.” 

For what felt like hours, but what could have only been a few minutes, Peter did as he asked, wheezing a little as he struggled to take enough air in. “I’m sorry.” He gasped. 

“Don’t apologize, Pete. Just breathe, okay? Focus on that.” He closed his eyes, nodding and breathing and resting his head on the man’s shoulder and wishing that he could just stop. “You need a break, Pete. Sometimes...I guess I didn’t think about how fast it all happened for you. I’m sorry. I should have insisted you talk to someone sooner.”

“I don’t want to.” He whispered. 

“Okay. How about you talk to me?”

He hesitated. 

“We don’t have to talk right now, Pete. But...look, no one is upset with you about this. No one blames you. Hell, thanks to you, we all get a vacation.” He sat up, ruffling Peter’s hair and smiling gently at him. “It’s okay. We’re all okay. I’m sorry the safe house is kind of creepy, but we both know they’re no such thing as ghosts, right?” Peter had to laugh a little. 

“Right.”

“Sounds good. Why don’t we go downstairs and get some dinner? Steve cooked.”  
Peter went to the bathroom to wash his face, taking deep breaths to try and calm down. He stared at himself in the mirror, trying to make sure his eyes didn’t look red or bloodshot. He looked a little pale, but he’d done the best he could, so he hurried down the hall toward the stairs. Something made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he came to a halt, looking around at the empty corridor. Empty. It was empty. 

So...why did he feel like someone was breathing nearby? He held his own breath, listening. He could hear the others moving around downstairs. He could hear the air conditioning and the pipes and...and something else. There was someone else. He whipped around, still holding his breath, but didn’t see anyone. 

Peter shook his head. “Don’t be stupid.” He grumbled at himself, then headed toward the stairs, ignoring the fact that his spider senses were making his spine tingle. There was nothing there. He was alone. 

The others were waiting for him at the dinner table, and Peter took his between Mr. Stark and Cassie, digging into the pasta that Steve had made. He was okay, he told himself. He was fine and the house was fine and normal and...Mr. Stark had him. Mr. Stark was there and he would listen if Peter needed him and...and he was going to be fine. 

That’s what he told himself as he ate the pasta and drank chocolate milk and then joined the others in the living room which, despite the huge space, felt absolutely claustrophobic. That’s what he told himself as they all headed off to bed, Tony ruffling his hair and telling him to sleep well and reminding him that he was there if he needed to talk. That’s what he told himself as he turned his bedroom light out and had to fight the urge to leap into bed, the thought of letting his feet anywhere near the hopefully empty space under his bed making his spider senses explode. Or maybe it was just his regular senses. Maybe it was the same part of him that had been afraid of the dark when he’d been little. 

Peter curled up under the unfamiliar quilt, the light of his cellphone screen fading from his bedside table, and he closed his eyes as tightly as he could, afraid to open them for some reason he couldn’t quite understand. Somehow, though, he fell asleep.

“Peter? Peter!” Someone was shaking his bed and Peter jumped awake, gasping for breath as he turned to find Cassie beside him, tears dripping down her cheeks. He glanced at his watch which came to life when he lifted his wrist, telling him it was 3:13 am.

“Hey...hey, what’s wrong?” Peter asked, wiping his own eyes and reaching out a hand. Immediately, Cassie was burying her face in his chest. The door between their rooms was open, but he couldn’t see in her room...couldn't see through the thick darkness as Cassie cried, wetting the front of his pajama shirt with her tears. “Cassie?” He tried to wake up...tried not to think about the darkness that surrounded them...or the fact that his bed suddenly felt like the only safe place in this room. In this house.

“Someone was in my room.” Cassie sobbed, and Peter rubbed a hand up and down her back, struggling to focus.

“What? Who?”

“A ghost.” The girl trembled in Peter’s arms. 

“There’s no such thing as ghosts, Cass.” He reminded the girl, starting to stand. She was scared, and he was older. So he had to be the grown-up...he would do what his aunt and uncle had always done for him. He would look under her bed and show him despite the fact that he was terrified of what was under her bed. But Cassie gripped him in a vice grip, refusing to let go and sobbing even louder. “What’s wrong?” 

“Don’t go!”

“I’m just going to go look in your room.” He soothed, rubbing her back. “Here. You keep the bed warm. Okay? I’ll scare the ghosts away.” Cassie shook her head, inconsolable.

“Please...please don’t go! He’ll get you!” 

“Who?”

“The tall man!” 

Okay. Peter had to admit, that was pretty freaky. And he didn’t want to get out of bed. Didn’t want to swing his legs over and place his bare feet on the floor and risk whatever was under his bed reaching out and grabbing him. He didn’t care how silly or childish that sounded. It was 3:13 in the morning and there was something in his room. He could feel it, up and down his spine and in his gut and he didn’t know how to fight whatever it was...but Cassie was counting on him and he had to make her feel safe. 

“Do you want me to get your dad?” Cassie shook her head again.

“Don’t go. Just...please. Please don’t go.”

“Okay.” Peter gave in, tugging Cassie down so that the girl was curled up in his bed, pulling the covers over both of them. “Sleep in my room tonight, and we’ll check your room for the tall man tomorrow. Okay?” Cassie nodded, on the verge of falling asleep again, and Peter let the girl throw her arms around him, glad for the shared body heat. 

It was so cold.


	3. The Light Of Day

When Peter woke up, Cassie was still curled up to his side, her fingers gripping his shirt. He blinked a few times in the dark, yawning and stretching, careful not to wake her, but Cassie only gripped his shirt more tightly. He reached over her, careful not to squash her, and grabbed his phone. It was only 8 in the morning...but he was oddly wide awake. Gently, he took her hands and uncurled her fingers. The little girl hummed in her sleep, letting go of his shirt and rolling over on her other side. Pulling the blanket up and over her, he tucked her in, then climbed out of his bed, looking around the room.

It was just a bedroom. Why had he been so afraid last night?

It seemed kind of silly in the light of day, and he shook his head at himself. It was kind of cold, sure, and it was an old house...but there was no such thing as ghosts. He knew better. He'd slept really well and he was wide awake...and his room wasn't scary. It was just cold. He shivered a little and grabbed a sweater that he threw over his pajama top. Then he grabbed a pair of socks, and contemplated grabbing a pair of gloves but thought that might be a little dramatic.

Yawning and grabbing his cell phone, he checked to see if Ned had responded to his last text, but his cell service was pretty spotty...almost nonexistent. Cassie was still sound asleep, so he headed over to the door that connected their rooms, looking around the room to see if he could see any evidence of anyone being in there the night before, but couldn't see anything. Just a slightly dusty bedroom. Shaking his head at himself, he shut her door, made sure she was still asleep, then shut his own

Something made him move as quietly as he could down the corridor, as though he were trying to keep from waking someone...or something. He dismissed the thought as soon as he had it, moving toward the staircase. Every door was firmly shut...they'd been shut when he and Cassie had come upstairs to explore the day before too.

He paused at the top of the stairs, staring for a moment at the chandelier, senses humming in the back of his mind. It felt like a low-level alarm was going off all the time...he could live with it, but it put him on edge. The stairs creaked as he walked on them and every step made him flinch.

Peter walked through the foyer, shuddering a little at the feeling...like the cold was pressing around him. But it wasn't. It was summer! No way the air would be turned up that high. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen a thermostat anywhere.

When he turned the corner, his heart jumped into his throat at the sight of a figure, a hand coming up automatically to brace himself against the door. It took a few seconds to register Steve standing at the counter, staring out the window, and he signed in relief, willing his heart to slow down.

"Hey, Steve." The other man jumped, spinning around and then smiling a little sheepishly.

"Morning, Peter. What are you doing up so early?" He asked, shaking his head a little as if clearing it... as if he had been lost in a daydream. His eyes were far away for a moment, but he seemed to be forcing himself to focus.

"Just...couldn't sleep. Must have been the nap last night."

"You feeling okay?"

"Yeah."

"You want to help me make pancakes?"

Peter nodded, moving over to the pantry to pull out the mix. The two worked together in the kitchen, Peter stirring up huge batches of batter for Steve to cook, their silence mostly companionable. Peter's senses were somewhat quiet...but every time he passed the dumbwaiter in the corner, they gave a little flare, and he would flinch, refusing to look at it...to let himself get too close, something in his brain sure that the door would open and something or someone would reach out…

"Pete?" He jumped a little at the voice and turned to find Steve watching him. The man had pulled out a package of bacon and another of biscuits. "You okay, son?"

"Oh...yeah, I'm fine," Peter assured him, shaking off the thoughts. It was just an old dumbwaiter. As if to prove his senses wrong, he moved past it on his way to take the biscuits and get them ready, letting his shoulder touch it.

His whole body went cold as if he'd been dumped in ice water, and Steve paused, turning to him and reaching out a hand. "Peter? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Peter insisted again, stepping away from the wall and moving closer to Steve, as though Steve could protect him from whatever waited in the dumbwaiter...as if he needed protecting. He was Spiderman! Why was he afraid of a hole in the wall?

(Because it wasn't a hole in the wall there was something there something terrible and it wanted him this whole house wanted him it would never let him go…)

Peter shook his head, wiping a hand over his face. "Sorry...I didn't sleep very well."

The other man nodded, placing the bacon in the skillet while Peter grabbed a baking tray for the biscuits. "Me either. I kept having these weird dreams…" Steve trailed off, shrugging. "It's probably just this house...I think Cassie really does think it's haunted."

Peter forced himself to laugh. Forced himself not to shudder, or to cross himself like May did sometimes.

The two finished breakfast just as Mr. Stark and Rhodey appereard, Rhodey rubbing his eyes while Mr. Stark went straight for the coffee pot. "Hey, kid. You feeling better?" He asked Peter, who was laying out biscuits on a baking sheet. He nodded, and Mr. Stark got the coffee pot started. "Then why didn't you make coffee?"

Rhodey snorted, reaching past Peter to grab an apple off the counter.

"Because I don't like coffee?" Peter suggested, and Mr. Stark rolled his eyes.

"Heathen." He tugged on the back of Peter's hair, snagging one of his wild curls, and Peter laughed and swatted him away. "How can you not like coffee?"

"It's gross."

"Blasphemy!" Peter caught the apple Tony threw at him and took a bite, blinking in surprise at the taste...for just a second, he could have sworn it was...off. Like...like an apple left for weeks, sickeningly sweet and rotten and ...and the apple was fine. They'd just bought it the day before along with all the other groceries. Scott would be making the only trips to town with Cassie, as the two of them had been charged with getting the groceries. They were the least recognizable of the group, apart from Peter who was apparently welcome to come along.

Peter thought that he might take them up on that.

He took another bite of the apple, then slipped behind Steve to put the baking sheet in the oven, setting the timer and being careful of the bacon grease that popped in the skillet.

"I'm going to finish setting up Friday today, and I'll make sure the wifi is working. You wanna help out?"

"Sure." Peter nodded, feeling a wave of hope. Maybe this place wouldn't be so bad. Maybe...maybe it would be fine.

After they all ate breakfast, Peter followed Mr. Stark to the room he'd set up as a lab down the hall. It wasn't much, and it felt empty without the bots, but computers and tablets were set up around the room on a couple of tables, and Mr. Stark headed straight to the biggest table right in the middle. It didn't look like a lab...not really. It had the same wallpaper as the rest of the rooms, floral with wood paneling at the bottom. But Mr. Stark had a way of making whatever room he was working in feel like his lab.

Peter joined him at the tablet, Tony showing him the code and telling him about the speakers he'd put up around the house the night before. Apparently he'd had some trouble getting all of the speakers to connect, and he hadn't set one up in the bedrooms yet, but he was trying to test it out downstairs for the time being. Peter agreed to test it out, headed out to the empty corridor, then down the hall to the living room. No one was in there...no one was anywhere, as far as he could tell. It was silent in the house...he couldn't hear anyone else. But he could hear something. Feel...something.

He paused in the middle of the room, looking around for speakers. He couldn't spot them, but Mr. Stark was really good at hiding speakers apparently, because he'd never seen them in the tower either. "Friday?" He asked, looking in the general direction of the ceiling. Silence. He cleared his throat, speaking up a little. "Friday?"

There was a bit of static, and Peter suppressed a shudder, heading back toward the lab. "Didn't work." He called, peeking into the make-shift lab. Mr. Stark sighed, glancing up and nodded as he went back to the tablet.

"Come on, Fri." He muttered, tapping the screen and shaking his head. "I've never had this much trouble…" Peter joined him, peering over his shoulder and Mr. Stark messed with the code, and the man moved over a little, letting him get a better look. "She can hear us...I just can't get the speakers to work."

"Could it be a short in one of the speakers?"

"They're all brand new...and I put two in every room on this floor...you'd think one of them would work."

"I can try all the rooms down here?"

Mr. Stark nodded, and Peter headed out again, this time heading for the kitchen. He didn't have any luck there either, so he doubled back, trying the living room again, then the library where he gave the black spiral staircase a wide berth. Finally, he turned the corner and paused when he found himself in a sculpture room. In front of him was a huge window, and he could see Cassie and her dad playing soccer outside. It looked so warm outside, and a cold shiver went up and down his back. He turned when he thought heard someone breathing, but there was no one there. The room was empty.

"Friday?" He asked, but there was only the same heavy silence...and the sculptures that stood or sat or reclined along the curved all that met back up with the living room. It was a strange, curved corridor more than it was a room, although there was a bench next to a statue of a reclining woman, and Peter froze, watching the statue for a moment as if it would move, which was ridiculous. He shook his head, heading back to the lab to tell Mr. Stark that it wasn't working.

Mr. Stark sighed, throwing his hands up. "I don't know what's going on." He admitted. "The wifi is working, but I can't get Friday to connect to anything." He glanced over at Peter, eyebrows furrowing. "Pete? You okay?"

Peter cocked his head, confused. "Yeah, why?"

"You're shaking…" He murmured, reaching out and rubbing Peter's arm. "Are you getting sick?"

"No...it's just cold in here," Peter told him with a shrug.

Mr. Stark watched him for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, it's kind of cold. Let's go outside for a bit. I'll check the air conditioning later." Peter nodded, even if he hadn't seen vents anywhere...or a thermostat.

He followed the man out the front door and the sun-soaked into his skin as soon as they left the porch. He closed his eyes, letting it warm him, and Mr. Stark moved toward the crumbling wall that had probably once marked a back garden. Cassie and Scott were kicking a ball back and forth, the two of them playing with makeshift goals made out of some sticks on the ground.

Peter jumped when the ball was kicked his way, catching it easily before it hit him or Tony in the face. "You have to kick it!" Cassie shouted, waving her hands.

He gave in, dropping it and kicking it her way. She caught it under her shoe, then kicked it past her father, trying to make it to the goal. Scott tripped when he tried to take it back, and Mr. Stark chuckled, hopping up on the wall to sit. Peter jumped up beside him, the two of them watching them play for a moment before the ball came toward them again. Mr. Stark gave it a half-hearted kick toward Cassie who laughed and took off sprinting with the ball.

"Do you want to play?" She called.

"I don't think my knees are up for it, kiddo." Mr. Stark told her with a smile, but Peter hopped down from the wall when she turned to him.

"Yeah, okay. I'll play." He agreed. As if summoned, Rhodey and Steve joined them outside not five minutes later, Steve joining Scott against the kids while Rhodey hopped up on the wall beside Mr. Stark. His legs kept him from playing, but the two laughed and cheered blatantly for Peter and Casie. Despite Scott and Steve's best efforts, Peter and Cassie won, the two of them racing up and down the field, dodging the older men who couldn't keep up, despite Steve's superstrength.

Steve did manage to get past Peter one, kicking the ball so hard that it flew into the trees, and Peter laughed when both Mr. Stark and Rhodey booed. "I can get it." Peter assured them, jogging into the forest and past the trees, tracking the path of the ball until he found it resting against an old building. Peter put his hand on the door, then dropped it when the wood made his whole body go cold.

Whatever was in there, he didn't want to know.

Instead, he grabbed the ball and backed away from the shack, gripping the ball almost too hard, senses screaming at him to get away...to run. He turned, jogging back through the woods, ball in hand, then dropped it, kicking it toward the field where the others waited. As he ran, he told himself that nothing was chasing him...that there was nothing in that building or in those woods...it was just a house. Just a building. Just some trees. Nothing more.

They played until it was time for lunch, and when Peter stepped back into the cold house, it almost felt nice. His hair was sweaty, the back of his shirt sticking to his back, and as soon as he stepped inside, he was shivering again. No one else seemed to notice, though. He headed up to his room, grabbing a change of clothes and then using the bathroom down the hall to take a shower. By the time he was dressed in a new outfit, he was cold again.

Lunch was sandwiches and chips and vegetables with dip, with Peter and Steve eating most of it. After they all ate, Mr. Stark went back to his lab, and Peter agreed to Cassie's idea of 'going exploring' since she wanted to explore outside, and he was up for getting out of that house for as long as possible, no matter how hot it was outside.

Cassie led him out to the woods, Peter making sure he had his phone in his pocket as he followed her. She'd left her soccer ball by the porch, a cheap digital camera in her hands instead. "Mommy said I should take lots of pictures to show her." She told him, holding the camera up by its strap.

"Yeah?" He'd learned that the girl could go on for hours if he just let her talk, and all he needed to do was say the occasional 'yeah' or 'uh-huh.' It was how May had Ben had dealt with him when he'd been a kid...and possibly how Mr. Stark dealt with him now when he was one of his Star Wars kicks.

"Can you take my picture in front of the house?" She asked, pausing right before they went into the trees.

"Sure." Peter nodded, taking the camera from her and stepping back so that he could get her and the house. She smiled, hands on her hips as she posed, and he had to smile, bringing up the camera and looking at the screen to make sure it wasn't blurry...that the girl was in focus and that he could see her and the house.

That's when he saw the woman in the window, her hand pressed to the glass, a smile on her decaying, rotted face as she, too, seemed to pose for the picture.


	4. Knock Knock

The moment Peter spotted the woman in the window...really took in her face and the rotten, decayed smile, she vanished, and he felt as though he'd almost tripped, a foot slipping on ice but caught at the last second...and his whole body was flooded with adrenaline. He swallowed hard, forcing his eyes back to Cassie as he pushed the button to take her picture. The little girl stared at him, eyebrows furrowing just like when Mr. Stark was worried about him.

"Peter?"

"Yeah...uh...here. I got the picture. Here you go." He handed it back to her, and she held it up, pointing it at him.

"I want a picture of you too!"

Peter forced a smile that felt sickly but Cassie took the picture anyway with a huge smile of her own.

She wanted to explore the woods, and since they were moving away from the house, he agreed, the two of them hiking through the forest. They weren't anywhere close to the creepy building he'd seen earlier, and his senses seemed to quiet the further they got from the house. They didn't wander too far...Peter didn't want to get them lost in the forest. They didn't find much, though. No more creepy buildings or weird figures in any windows...not that he'd actually seen anything, he told himself as he followed Cassie back toward the house.

He didn't mean to go up to the window he'd seen the figure in. There were no such things as ghosts. That's what Mr. Stark had said, and he was right. Of course, he was right, Peter told himself as he stepped back into the freezing house, heading straight for the stairs and marching up them. I was like his legs were moving on their own...he didn't want to go upstairs. Didn't want to find that window and see if...see if...what?

See if he saw a ghost?

Peter shook his head at himself. This was stupid. It was so, completely stupid. He knew he should just go downstairs. Maybe find Mr. Stark and help him set Friday up...he'd heard the man in his makeshift lab talking to her. That would make more sense. He could help Mr. Stark. Or he could work on his webshooters...or call Ned. Maybe make something to eat. Anything...anything but go looking for a ghost.

The window looked out on the back of the property, over the field where they'd all played soccer. The thought made him shudder, and he glanced over his shoulder, shivering as something cold seemed to pass through him. He looked around again but didn't see anything in the empty corridor. Shaking his head at himself, Peter looked out the window again. He could clearly see the spot where he'd been standing. Could see the place where he and Cassie had stepped into the forest to go exploring...could almost see the building in the woods that he'd found while grabbing the soccer ball.

A hand on his shoulder made him practically jump out of his skin and he whirled around, heart in his throat. Nothing. No one was up there. He knew that. There were no heartbeats close by. There had been no footsteps.

There was no one there.

Peter glanced once more out the window, spider senses sending another warning up and down his spine.

"Peter?" He jumped again, whirling only to find Mr. Stark standing a few feet away, concern obvious on his face. "You okay, kiddo?"

"Yeah." He nodded, forcing a smile and running his hand through his hair. "Yeah, I just, uh...thought I saw something." He shrugged.

"Like what?" He asked, joining Peter over by the window and glancing out at the yard.

"Just a...deer." Peter lied, smiling weakly and shrugging.

"Are you sure everything's okay, Pete?"

"Yeah. Just, uh...you know. Kind of bored."

Mr. Stark watched him for a long moment, and then he nodded. "Yeah. I haven't had much luck getting Friday hooked up. Thought I'd take a break. Why don't we watch a movie, huh? I'm pretty sure we've got plenty of popcorn."

Peter smiled for real then, nodding. "Sure. Did you want to get the others?"

The man wrapped his arm around Peter's shoulders, a hand resting on his shoulder where the other hand had been, the warmth replacing the cold. Peter leaned against him a little, letting him lead him back toward the stairs. "Nah. They can find their own popcorn. Just me and you, Pete."

It felt almost safe again, sitting next to Mr. Stark on the red sofa in his makeshift lab, his head on the man's shoulder as a movie played on the screen. Peter had brought a few movies with him, figuring that if worse came to worse, he could watch Star Wars. And despite the fact that Mr. Stark had watched all of the Star Wars movies with him a dozen times, there he was, sitting at Peter's side, watching Luke meet Obi-Wan and munching on popcorn.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark." Peter murmured, not daring to look at him in the dark room. (You had to turn off the lights while you were watching a movie...it was movie rule #1!)

"What are you talking about, kid?"

"Just...that we have to stay here."

Mr. Stark shifted and looked down at him, the light from the TV illuminating his face. "We talked about this, Pete." He told him gently. "No one blames you for this. It's not your fault."

He shrugged. "I'm still sorry."

Mr. Stark sighed. "Alright, Pete. You're forgiven." He promised, squeezing Peter to his side.

It took Peter another few minutes to work up to his next statement. "Mr. Stark?"

"Yeah, bud?"

"I...can I tell you something?"

Mr. Stark turned to him once more, looking serious. "Of course you can, kid."

"Even if it sounds stupid?"

"Especially if it sounds stupid."

Peter laughed a little, then, swallowing hard, he went on. "I...when Cassie and I were outside earlier...I took her picture."

"Okay…"

"And...the house was in the background."

"I'm sure it was a great photo, Pete." Mr. Stark teased gently.

"I saw...I mean...I thought I saw...something. I mean...someone...in the window."

There was a long pause, and Mr. Stark cocked his head. "The window you were looking out of earlier."

"Yeah."

"Could it have been Cap or Rhodey? Or maybe Scott?"

Peter shook his head. "It was a woman." He didn't go on...didn't describe her decaying smile or the way she'd posed for his picture.

Mr. Stark was quiet for a moment, seemingly deep in thought. "So...that's weird."

The response surprised Peter enough that he laughed a little, and Mr. Stark squeezed his shoulder. "Yeah. It was weird."

"Keep your phone on you. If you see any more weird stuff, call for me, okay?"

Peter nodded, letting out a breath and resting his head on Mr. Stark's shoulder once more.

That evening, they all ate dinner together, Cassie chatting all about the things they'd seen in the woods and the pictures she'd taken and how she and Peter had played soccer. Rhodey chuckled occasionally, him and Tony nodding and smiling along with Scott, while Mr. Stark threw him concerned looks every once in a while. The sun was still up, casting long shadows, but Peter found himself feeling grateful that at least it wasn't dark.

But that was silly. He wasn't afraid of the dark.

Steve seemed a little off though. The man had made dinner and the chicken was really good...but he wasn't talking. He ate kind of robotically, eyes never leaving his plate, and Peter wanted to ask if he was okay but figured he might be sick or something and didn't want anyone to know. Or maybe, Peter's anxiety brain suggested, he was angry with him. Angry that they had to stay in this stupid house away from everyone else and angry that they couldn't leave and angry that he'd screwed up so badly.

So Peter didn't approach. Didn't ask if he was okay or draw attention to himself. Just let Cassie talk all about her day to her captive audience. Afterward, he and Mr. Stark did the dishes, and by the time they were finished, Steve was gone. Not wanting anyone else to notice if they didn't already, he headed up to his room to text Ned and May until he fell asleep.

The sound of knuckles rapping against wood pulled Peter out of a deep sleep, and he groaned.

Peter groaned and rolled over, a hand thrown over his face. "What?" He asked, opening his eyes and looking toward the door. Grabbing blindly for his phone, he frowned at the time. 3:06 am. The knocking came again and he sighed, putting the phone down and forcing himself to sit up.

Before he could stand, however, or even swing his legs over the bed and place his feet on the floor in the darkness, the door between his and Cassie's room was thrown open and she raced into his room. "Somethings knocking on my door!" She cried, throwing herself into his bed. He let out a grunt when she landed on his leg, her hands scrambling to grip his nightshirt.

"What?" He asked, wrapping an arm around her automatically. She hid her face in his shoulder, her wet cheeks soaking his shirt. "What do you mean? That wasn't you?"

"No! It woke me up!" He sighed. He didn't think that anyone would knock on their doors as a joke at three in the morning, but it might have been a tree or something.

"Okay. You stay here and I'm going to…"

"No!" She all but screamed, gripping him even tighter. "No! Don't go!"

He frowned, looking from her to the doorway between their rooms, unable to see through the blackness. "Cassie...I just want to see if…" Suddenly it came back, a fist pounding on his bedroom door, and Peter jumped, arms tightening around Cassie instinctually. "Wha…" He started, then flinched when his whole body seemed to catch fire, spider senses sending a painful warning up his spine, all the hairs on his body standing straight up.

It sounded like someone was beating a fist against his bedroom door, the movement so violent that it rattled the door on its hinges. Cassie was sobbing and Peter held her a little more tightly, watching the door rattle in the frame.

No one would do this. No one would play a joke like this. Maybe on him, but not Cassie.

"Stop!" He shouted, a hand on the back of Cassie's hair. "Stop it!"

And then it did. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to breathe normally. He had to be calm. Cassie needed him to be calm. So he would be. He rubbed her back, staring into the darkness at the vague outline of his door. "It's okay. It's fine." He murmured to the crying girl in his lap, rubbing her back and rocking her a little.

"Wha...what...was that?" She whimpered. He shook his head, not sure what he should say, when it came back...louder. A fist pounding on his door, starting at the bottom and moving up to the top, then to the wall, moving closer and closer to the open door between his room and Cassie's. The girl in his arms screamed, and he had to close his eyes for a moment, taking another deep breath to try and stave off the sensory overload and the terror that had completely paralyzed him.

It wasn't working.

The banging was getting closer to the door between their rooms and he Cassie was screaming and...and then his bedroom door was thrown open, Scott and Mr. Stark standing in the hallway, switching the light on and staring at them incredulously. "Daddy!" Cassie cried, kicking Peter once more as she jumped out of bed, and he flinched, then placed his hands over his ears. Too loud...it was all so loud and his senses wouldn't stop and his head hurt and his whole body was so alert and he felt sick…

"Pete?" Mr. Stark approached, placing a gentle hand on his back.

"What's going on?" Scott asked as his daughter sobbed. "What were you doing in here, baby?"

"Didn't you hear it?" Cassie asked. "They were beating on my door!"

"Who was?" Scott asked, and everyone was being so loud Peter just needed it to stop!

"Pete? Hey, kiddo, talk to me."

"The tall man and the bad lady! They were beating on the walls and I was scared and Peter told them to stop but they didn't! They were going to get us!"

Peter groaned, slumping forward, and Mr. Stark grabbed his shoulders, holding him up.

"Okay, it's okay." Scott murmured, every word like nails on a chalkboard to Peter's oversensitive ears. "Let's go to my room."

"What's wrong with Peter?" She asked, sounding even more scared than before. "Did the bad lady get him?"

"No...uh...I think you just had a nightmare, baby."

"It wasn't a nightmare! It was real!" Cassie all but screamed.

"Please...please stop…" Peter groaned, and then Mr. Stark was sitting on the bed across from him, pulling him closer with a hand on the back of his hair. "Hurts…"

"Alright. Sorry, Pete." Mr. Stark whispered, hiding his head against his shoulder. The man must have made some sort of gesture because Peter could hear Scott and Cassie's footsteps walking away, and the soft voices of both Rhodey and Steve down the hall. He could hear their conversations and Cassie asking if he was okay and their footsteps and their heartbeats and the whole house creaking and Mr. Stark gripped him tighter. "You're okay." He whispered. "Breathe."

"Loud…" He whimpered, rocking a little against Mr. Stark, and the man let him go, easing him down onto the pillow. Peter started to reach for him, but the man touched his arm.

"Just a second, Pete." He moved away, and then the man was pulling something over his head...and the world went silent.

Peter felt his whole body go limp and he sighed in relief, the headache that had been making his temples throb started to fade. A hand rested on his arm, rubbing gently up and down, and Peter worried that he would start to fall asleep...but he didn't. He felt wide awake and still afraid. But Mr. Stark was right there. And he was a superhero, he remembered then. Peter was Spiderman.

But what could Spiderman do against whatever haunted this house?

When the pain finally started to fade, and when he could open his eyes and breathe normally, he started to peel his mask back, glancing up at Mr. Stark who was sitting right beside him on the bed, a hand still rubbing up and down his arm. "Hey...you feeling better?"

"Yeah...I'm sorry…"

"You don't have to apologize, kiddo. You can't help it." Both fortunately and unfortunately, it wasn't the first time that Mr. Stark had needed to help him through a sensory overload episode, thus the mask with built-in noise-canceling headphones. "Think you can tell me what happened?" The man asked, putting a hand on Peter's back and helping him sit up. Peter nodded, glancing at the still-open door between his room and Cassie's.

"Is she okay?" He asked.

"Yeah, she's fine. Just shaken up."

"Someone was knocking on my door...then she ran in and jumped on my bed. She said she heard it too...and then...it came back. It was so loud...you really didn't hear anything?"

Mr. Stark shook his head. "No. I didn't hear anything."

That didn't make any sense! It had happened! Peter wouldn't have dreamed that! "But...my door was shaking. It wasn't a nightmare, Mr. Stark. Then it was coming from that wall and…" He trailed off and glanced at the door between their rooms again. Mr. Stark was quiet, and then he stood, ruffling Peter's hair.

"Alright. I'm going to check out her room."

Peter had to fight the urge to grab his arm...to beg him not to go just like Cassie had begged him. But there was nothing in that room. Because of course there wasn't. Because ghosts weren't real and he was being silly. It had been a nightmare. It had to have been.

Peter closed his eyes and dropped back onto his pillow, curling up under his blanket and shivering. Ghosts weren't real. He knew that. He wasn't a little kid like Cassie. He knew the difference between nightmares and real life.

_ **Thank you for reading** _


	5. Stormclouds

_ **Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy! ** _

Peter jerked awake when a hand touched his arm, gasping and sitting up to see who was in the room with him. It was, not surprisingly, Mr. Stark who placed a hand on his shoulder, his own eyes wide. Who had Peter been expecting?

"Hey, Pete." The man said almost cautiously.

"Wha...what time is it?" He asked, looking around the room only to find it empty except for the two of them. The last thing he could remember was Mr. Stark going into Cassie's room...looking for whatever had been knocking on the wall. And wanting to ask Mr. Stark not to go. Beg him not to go.

"Almost eleven. You okay?" He asked, and Peter took another look around the room again...at the horn beside his bed and the closed door between his room and Cassie's.

"I...yeah. Yeah, I...I just…" Peter shook his head and tried to clear it. Almost eleven? He hadn't slept that late in a while. Between Spiderman and school and the nightmares, he hadn't exactly been getting all that much sleep.

"You were talking in your sleep...sounded like you were having a nightmare."

"Yeah," Peter whispered. He couldn't remember. Not quite. But he remembered a woman. A woman with a decaying smile and dead, white eyes and a hand that reached out for him. "Is Cassie okay?" He asked, not wanting to think about his nightmare. Not wanting to remember.

"She's fine. Everyone else already had breakfast. She kept asking if she could wake you up...she said that bad lady was going to get you." The man said it with a smirk but Peter felt a cold shiver go up his spine. The bad lady. He had a feeling he knew what she was talking about. "I told her you were fine...that when she was a teenager she would also want to sleep all day."

"What was the noise?" Peter asked abruptly, knowing that Mr. Stark couldn't know and that he didn't really want to. He made a face, dropping his eyes, and Peter felt his face go hot. "I didn't dream it! There was someone banging on the wall! They were going to break down the door!"

"Pete…"

"I'm not making this up!" It was like Mysterio all over again...except it couldn't be. Because Peter wasn't crazy and he wasn't seeing things! Beck was gone and...and Mr. Stark had to believe him.

"I know." Mr. stark lowered his voice, making it gentle. "I'm not saying you're making it up. You and Cassie both heard it...but I just...I didn't hear anything and…"

Peter shook his head, covering his face his his hands. "I'm not crazy."

"I know you're not crazy, Pete."

"I didn't dream it. Someone was beating on my door. It was real!"

"Okay." Mr. Stark murmured, reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry...I'm not saying that you're crazy. I just...I don't understand what it could have been. Especially since Scott and I didn't hear it." Peter just nodded, wiping a hand over his face. "Hey...why don't we get you some breakfast? Then you can help me out in the lab. I'm still trying to set Friday up downstairs."

"Okay." Peter murmured, shrugging a little, and Mr. Stark squeezed his shoulder.

"We'll try and get some cameras set up here too. Figure out what's going on."

"Yeah."

The man sighed. "Alright, kiddo, I'll let you get dressed." He ruffled Peter's messy hair and then he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

Mr. Stark didn't believe him. He thought he was crazy. But Cassie had heard it too! They'd both seen it! But...it didn't make any sense! Peter shook his head and threw the covers off. Stupid. He was being stupid. There was so kind of explanation. There had to be. But it didn't matter. He wasn't a little kid. It was fine for Cassie to get freaked out. She was only ten. But Peter...he'd seen a real monster. He'd fought things that were actually scary. Some random noise in the dark...that wasn't going to freak him out.

He'd done enough. Caused enough trouble for everyone. It was his fault that they were here. His fault that they had to stay in this creepy house together where Mr. Stark couldn't even get Friday set up. Taking a deep breath, he put his head in his hands, then forced himself to his feet, then headed to the bathroom down the hall. Splashing water in his face, he fought the urge to look away from his reflection. It was just him. There was nothing else there. No one else in the mirror. Because of course there wasn't. It was stupid to even think that.

He knew what was real. Beck was gone. He knew what was real.

After getting dressed in a sweater and jeans, he hurried down the stairs and found Mr. Stark in the kitchen. He was standing at the stove, making his 'world-famous pancakes' which were just regular pancakes with extra chocolate chips. "Hey, Pete. What do you think? Four or six?"

"Six," Peter told him, finally smiling a little. It was bright outside, the sun shining in through the window, and it made Peter feel even dumber. It was just a house, he reminded himself. A creepy house, but still. A house. A Shied safe house. And he was staying here with other superheroes! He was a superhero! Just like Mr. Stark and Steve and Rhodey and Scott...he was a superhero and a scientist and he wasn't afraid of ghosts...because ghosts weren't real!

Peter scarfed down his pancakes and orange juice, and then he joined Mr. Stark in his lab, glancing out the window where he could see Cassie kicking a soccer ball around by herself. She looked fine...like the night before hadn't permanently traumatized her, so that was good. Peter sat down at his workspace, the one Mr. Stark had set up for him and pulled out his webshooters just to have something to work on. After a little while, he once more left the lab to test the speakers, trying to find out if the speakers were faulty, or if Friday just wasn't connecting.

Colonel Rhodes joined them too, and he plopped down at a workstation beside Peter, the two of them looking at one tablet to try and figure out what was going on. Every once in a while, Peter would head out into the house to check the speakers again, but every time it was the same thing. She wouldn't connect. Peter couldn't get anything to connect to them, not even his phone when he tried to use the Bluetooth. All he could get was static that made him flinch every time, the sound making his skin crawl.

Three hours passed and they still didn't have any idea why Friday wasn't connecting, and outside, the sky was getting darker and darker, with clouds rolling in. "Alright, kiddo. How about we take a break?" The man sighed, stretching as he stood and running his hands through his hair.

"I don't get it," Peter admitted, putting his tablet down. "She should be connecting." Rhodey gave him a quick pat on the back and let Peter pull him to his feet to stretch. The two had been bent over that tablet for almost an hour trying to find a solution.

"I don't get it either." Mr. Stark shook his head. "It's like there's interference...but I don't know what it could be." He threw his hands up.

"How about we take a break?" Rhodey suggested, looking between Peter and Mr. Stark with what seemed like concern. Peter didn't understand it ...didn't understand why Mr. Stark would suddenly have so much trouble setting up Friday when he'd never had trouble before.

Just as Peter was about to agree to a break, there was a knock on the door, and Scott poked his head in. "Hey, have any of you seen Cassie?" He asked, looking around as if she would be with them in the lab. He didn't look scared, exactly. Just...concerned.

"Yeah, she was outside…". Peter glanced at the window and frowned when he realized she wasn't there...she'd just been outside the window kicking her soccer ball around. The sky had gotten cloudy at some point, and it looked like it would rain soon. "I can go find her."

Scott nodded, and Mr. Stark patted him on the shoulder. "Alright, Pete. Go find Cassie and we'll get started on some food. How about a late lunch?"

"Sure."

As soon as he stepped outside, he felt a rush of relief. He hadn't even realized how tense he'd been all morning, but his shoulders seemed to lose all of that tension and he stretched his arms over his head. His back ached in a vague way, and he had a headache he hadn't really noticed, but it was starting to fade. The further he got from the house, the better he felt. The more relaxed.

The field beyond the dilapidated stone wall was empty, and Peter looked around just in case she was hiding. Just in case she was playing a joke. There wasn't really anywhere for her to hide unless she went into the trees. Until you hit the forest, it was all a big empty field. "Cass?" He called. "Cassie?" He didn't see her soccer ball and wondered if maybe she'd accidentally kicked it too far and had gone to find it. "Cassie?"

"Peter!" The call came from further away than he'd expected, and he frowned, turning to follow it.

"Cassie!" He called again, moving in that direction at a run. His senses were quiet, but he still felt the anxiety starting to build in his stomach. Why would she have gone so far? Had Scott told her to stay close?

"Peter! Come look!" She didn't sound scared. More...curious

It only took him another minute to reach her, and when he did, she was standing in front of the building. It was small, like a shed, all made of stone with a ragged wooden door. "Hey...what are you doing?"

"Look! It's like a clubhouse!"

Peter gave the building a skeptical look, not wanting to get any closer, but Cassie was already grabbing the handle of the rotten wood door and pulling. It didn't budge. "Can you open it?" She asked, stepping back, and, loathe to disappoint her, he grabbed the handle, shuddering at the cold the filled his body. Something awful had happened here. He just knew it. But there was nothing inside that he couldn't handle. He was a superhero, after all. So he pulled the door open and revealed what looked to be a normal shed.

"Cool!" Cassie cried, moving past him, but he put a hand on her shoulder.

"How about we look around later. It's going to start raining soon. Your dad asked me to come and find you."

Cassie hesitated, looking like she wanted to argue, but just then, thunder boomed, the noise seeming to crack the silence wide open, and she jumped. In the distance, dark clouds were gathering, and the girl suddenly grabbed his hand, looking a little scared. "Don't worry." He told her, squeezing her hand and shutting the door to the shed. Who knew what kind of building it had been back when this house had been lived in? For now, though, they needed to get inside. "Let's get back to the house before it starts raining."

The little girl followed him, dropping his hand and moving at his side as they made their way back toward the house. For a moment, they were quiet, but then she turned to him. "Daddy didn't believe me." She told him, voice soft as if someone were close enough to overhear. "He said that it must have been a dream." She hesitated. "It wasn't a dream, was it?"

He wanted to tell her that it had been...that of course, it had been a dream. That ghosts weren't real and that Mr. Stark and Scott hadn't heard anything so they must have dreamed it. But he couldn't lie to her. "No. It wasn't a dream." He was sure of that much.

"What was it?"

"I don't know." He admitted.

"I keep dreaming about a bad lady." Cassie all but whispered, looking up at him with fear in her eyes...fear of the bad lady or fear of him laughing at her, she wasn't sure. "Daddy says it's just a nightmare...but I dream about the tall man, too. And sometimes I think I see him when I wake up."

Peter reached out, letting her put her hand in his, and squeezed comfortingly.

"Are they real?"

"I don't know. But I won't let them get you."

"I think this house is bad." She told him as they climbed the back steps.

"Me too."

The sky seemed to open up as soon as they were safely inside, and thunder boomed once more. By the time they were in the kitchen, the sky had gone so dark that it almost looked like it was night. "Hey, Cass. Where'd you run off to?" Scott asked, reaching out and pulling her close, an arm thrown around her shoulders.

"I kicked the ball too hard...it went into the woods." Peter noticed that she didn't mention the shed.

(Something bad happened there...something so bad...someone died there.)

The thought brought him up short and he froze, hand on the refrigerator handle. Why would he think something like that? His senses had gone back to humming their constant warning now that he was inside, and it was a struggle to focus once more on the present. Before anyone could notice his strange behavior...well, anyone except Mr. Stark who noticed everything he did, he opened the refrigerator and grabbed a soda. Maybe he just needed some sugar. Maybe that's why he suddenly felt shaky and weak.

They all made sandwiches for a late lunch, and Peter scarfed down three before he felt normal again. That must have been it, he told himself. He'd gone too long without eating. They were all gathered in the dining room together, all of them eating and the others were chatting...except for Peter. And Steve. Peter couldn't help but notice how quiet Steve was, and once more he had to fight the urge to ask if the man was okay. He didn't seem like himself. Then again, maybe he was pissed that they had to stay in this house all summer, a fear that Peter really didn't want confirmed.

After lunch, Cassie was apparently bored and begged Peter to play with her. Rhodey was doing the dishes and Scott glanced up with a frown. "Cass, baby, I think Peter probably has other things to do." He told her gently.

"No, it's okay," Peter told him. It wasn't like he actually had anything else to do. "What do you want to do?" He asked, scraping his plate into the garbage and then putting it in the sink.

"Um...do you want to play hide and seek?"

"Sure." He told her with a shrug.

"Alright, you count, and I'll hide!" She cried, then took off running.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Scott turned to Peter with a rueful smile. "You don't have to entertain her, Peter. I'm sure you have a lot to do."

Peter gave him an easy smile and shrugged. "Not really. And I don't mind."

"Alright...just...if you're sure."

"Yeah, it's no problem." He assured the man before running off to find Cassie. He really didn't mind...anything to keep himself busy, even if it meant spending more time exploring this house.

It was strange to be spending his days playing games...running around with Cassie and entertaining someone else. He knew that his summers of freedom were limited, but in another way, it felt like he hadn't had freedom like this in so long. No patrols to go on, no homework, no real responsibilities...it would have been nice if he hadn't been so cold all the time. It felt almost like he was a little kid again...back before Spiderman and Thanos and Beck.

The storm continued to rage around them, and Peter found Cassie hiding in a closet, in the library, and in a room he'd never been in before downstairs with red carpet and a dollhouse. Afterward, they watched a movie, mostly because Peter didn't want to hide anymore. Not in this house. Especially not as it got darker and darker outside, the rain pounding on the roof.

Bad things happened in the dark.

It was during Frozen that the lights abruptly shut off, the TV screen going dark, and Cassie gave a quiet gasp, scooting closer to Peter on the sofa. He put an arm around her, squeezing her shoulder and looking around the empty room, slowly placing their bucket of popcorn on the coffee table. The whole house had gone silent, and Peter felt his stomach turn.

Alone. They were alone in the room. Of course, they were alone. The room had been empty before the lights had gone out and it was empty now that it was dark. He couldn't hear anyone else breathing...of course he couldn't. His uncle had always told him when he was little that he didn't have to be scared of the dark...that the dark didn't change anything.

But for the first time since he was seven, he thought his uncle might have been wrong. In this house, the dark changed things.

"Let's go find the others. The storm probably just knocked the power out." He assured her, standing and keeping his arm around her, desperate to find someone else.

They stepped out into the hallway, but he didn't hear anyone...didn't hear any heartbeats or footsteps...but that's probably because the others were upstairs. "Daddy!" Cassie called, looking around the hall as they made their way into the foyer, the huge chandelier illuminated for just a second as the lightning flashed. "Dad!"

Peter didn't call out for anyone...didn't shout for Mr. Stark, no matter how much he wanted to.

"Cassie!" Scott soon called back, and then the man was at the top of the stairs, hurrying down to meet them. "Tony just went out to find the breaker box with James."

It took Peter's brain a solid five seconds to connect 'James' with 'Rhodey' but once he managed it, he nodded, relinquishing his grip on Cassie so that she could run to her father. Upstairs, he saw a shadow and looked up to find Steve walking past the staircase and toward the bedrooms. What was he doing?

"I'll be right back." He told Scott, hurrying up the stairs. Before he was even halfway up, the sound of glass shattering made everyone jump. "What..." He muttered, sprinting up the stairs and in the direction that Steve had disappeared in. "Steve?" He called, hurrying down the hall. "Steve, what was…". His words died in his throat when he turned the corner and Steve wasn't there.

Had he gone into one of the bedrooms?

Peter shook his head, walking back toward the stairs. Steve's bedroom was on the other side of the house...the other direction. And all of the doors were shut. Figuring he must have been mistaken, he started to look for him on the other side of the house, the only light coming from the flashes of lighting through the windows, when he passed the stairs...and his senses sent a warning up and down his spine. Peter flinched, turning to find the woman standing on the other landing across the wide-open space of the downstairs foyer...she smiled at him. Lifting a hand and wiggled her red-tipped fingers...and that's when his senses went off again, so strong it was almost painful.

Thunder shook the house, the chandelier swung, and Cassie stood alone right underneath it, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Peter jumped, not even stopping to think before landing hard, one ankle twisting a little underneath him. He barely felt it, just sprinted the final five steps to Cassie before wrapping his arms around her and tackling her, both of them landing hard on the ground only a split second before the chandelier came crashing down.

_ **Thank you for reading!** _


	6. Come Home

_ **I'm so sorry for the long wait between chapters! Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy the new chapter!** _

The crash was explosive, and Peter flinched at the sound as he landed on top of Cassie, careful to press his hands against the ground to keep his full weight off of her. For a moment, the only sound was his heavy breathing and Cassie...she was crying, eyes shut tight, lips trembling. He heard footsteps too, pounding footsteps that must have been her father's. Despite the fact that his ankle was screaming at him, he pushed himself up and sat beside her, leg stretched out in front of him as he tried not to move his ankle. He didn't think it was broken...probably just strained.

"You okay?" He asked, right as Scott was racing into the room. Where had he been? Peter glanced up at the landing but didn't see anyone...didn't see the woman. Outside, thunder boomed and the huge entryway was briefly illuminated as lightning flashed. It didn't look like the chandelier had broken...instead it sat intact in the middle of the floor.

_Of course, it didn't break...the house wouldn't let it._

The thought startled Peter and he blinked to clear his head.

"Cassie!" Scott cried, appearing from the direction of the kitchen and dropping at their side, arms outstretched as he pulled her close. "What happened?"

"It fell!" She cried, pointing at the chandelier with a shaky finger, big tears falling from her eyes.

"Peter?" They all turned at Steve's voice. He came from the library, jogging over towards Peter who sat on the floor. "Is everyone alright?" He looked wide awake...and afraid. But when had he gotten to the library? Hadn't he been upstairs?

"He saved me," Cassie told Steve with no small amount of awe, and Steve knelt beside Peter, looking him over. "He was upstairs and he jumped!"

"You jumped off the landing?"

"I think I twisted my ankle, but I'm okay." He muttered, giving him a weak smile.

Steve didn't look like he believed him, but he was looking around the room, no small amount of confusion in his eyes. "Where are Tony and James?"

"Um...they went to check the breaker," Peter gestured to the mammoth front doors, shut tight against the storm.

"Alright...let's get you to the sofa, huh?" He asked, reaching out. Peter put an arm over his shoulder and let him pull him up under his knees. He wanted to tell Steve that it wasn't necessary...that he could hobble there himself. But before he could, they were in the living room, and Steve was placing him on the long red sofa. "I'll grab you some ice for your ankle."

"Thanks," Peter told him a little sheepishly, looking around the dark room nervously. There was a large open doorway, and he could easily see the others, but he still felt a cold chill go down his spine. Steve came back after a few seconds, a packet of frozen peas in his hand then placed it on Peter's ankle. He shuddered a little at the cold.

"You're sure it's just a sprain?"

"Yeah, I think so." Steve knelt beside the couch and put a careful hand on his ankle. "I'm pretty sure I just twisted it."

"Alright. Rest it tonight. Then tomorrow we…" He was cut off when something upstairs shattered, and both of them went still, eyes shooting up to the ceiling. "What was that?" He asked mostly to himself, starting to stand.

Peter's hand shot out on instinct, gripping Steve's wrist. He didn't want to be alone. Not in this house and not in this room with the red sofa and no lights and lightning flashing and windows shattering and...Peter shook his head and forced himself to let go of the man's arm. He wasn't a baby. He wasn't a little kid like Cassie. He wasn't afraid to be alone. He was basically an adult and he had no reason to be afraid and it was his fault they were all here anyway. "Sorry." He whispered, putting his hands in his lap and staring down at his lap. "Sorry...you should probably go...figure out what happened." He was glad it was so dark because he knew his face was red.

Steve hesitated, then sat down on the ottoman across from him. Peter could see him pretty well despite the dark...he guessed it came from the Spider bite, but he also wondered how well Steve could see him. If he looked as scared as he felt.

"I'm fine. You can go." He prompted again.

The man shook his head. "Tony and James should be back soon." He yawned, running a hand over his face. "Ever since we came to this house, I keep having the strangest dreams."

Before Peter could ask what he meant, the front door opened, and he heard Mr. Stark's voice. "What the hell? What happened?"

Scott was talking then, explaining that the chandelier had just fallen...and that Peter had pushed Cassie out of the way.

"Are they okay?"

"Cassie's fine. She's in the kitchen eating cookies."

"And Pete?"

"Steve took him in the other room. I think he sprained his ankle but he seemed fine."

"We're in here, Tony," Steve called, reaching out and patting Peter on the shoulder as he stood.

"Steve?" Peter asked, hating how small his voice sounded. The man paused, and Peter swallowed. "I'm...I'm sorry. That we have to stay here all summer." He knew that it was a dumb time to be apologizing for that...but he felt like something was wrong with Steve and he couldn't help but worry it was all his fault.

The man softened, shaking his head and clasping Peter's shoulder. "You don't have to worry about that, son." He told him, then stood to his full height. "Your kid's fine, Tony. Just sprained his ankle jumping off the second story landing."

"You jumped…" Mr. Stark started, but Peter was quick to cut in.

"The chandelier was going to crush her!" He cried, and Steve gave a soft chuckle as he headed out.

"I thought I heard glass breaking upstairs. I'm going to go figure out what happened."

"I couldn't get the power back on. It sounds like the roof's gonna cave in." The man muttered, and when he stepped around, a flashlight in hand, Peter saw that he was absolutely soaked, hair plastered to his head. "So...second story?"

"The chandelier was going to crush her." He reiterated...and he thought about telling Mr. Stark about the woman...about his senses and the fact that something was wrong with this house. But the man already had to worry about him enough.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah...just sprained," Peter told him, gesturing to his ankle. Mr. Stark didn't look any more convinced than Steve had, and Peter wondered if he was talking about his ankle or something else.

"You sure? We can call Bruce...get him to take a look."

"Nah. Steve looked. He was in the military or...whatever. He had to have medical training, right?"

"Yeah, a hundred years ago."

They both laughed, and with Mr. Stark in the room, Peter felt...safe. Actually, he felt kind of silly. Just a house. Just a room. The dark didn't change anything. Couldn't change anything. It was just...an absence of light. Light didn't change the physical properties of a room. Or a house. Peter knew that. His uncle had taught him that. Science had taught him that.

"Was it a breaker?" He asked, leaning against the back of the sofa.

"I think the power's out for the whole area...if it doesn't come back on tomorrow, we'll have to figure something out." He told Peter with an unconcerned shrug.

He wanted to ask if that would mean going somewhere else...moving to a different, less haunted house. But he didn't want the man to think he was even more of a baby than he probably already did. "You should probably find some dry clothes," Peter told him, shifting and starting to stand, but Mr. Stark put a hand on his shoulder, holding him down.

"Oh, I don't think so, Spiderling. You're staying right there. We'll all sleep down here tonight...no need for anyone to fall down the stairs in the middle of the night. I'll get a change of clothes and bring some blankets down."

They all agreed that they should sleep in the living room since no one wanted to venture up to their rooms in the dark. Peter on the sofa, Cassie on a loveseat, and Mr. Stark laying back in a recliner. Scott and Rhodey headed for two sofas against the wall by the bookcases, and Steve insisted the floor was fine, piling blankets on the ground and laying flat on his back. Upstairs, there was water pouring dripping onto the carpet, and probably broken glass on the floor, but as Peter lay on the sofa surrounded by the other Avengers, plus Cassie, he couldn't help feeling a little glad. He wanted this house to rot.

He dreamed of Beck...it seemed like he always dreamed of Beck. Of illusions and watching the people he loved die and Beck laughing at him and a train...when he jerked awake, he was relieved that he hadn't woken anyone else up. He could hear the soft breathing and steady heartbeats of the others...he was fine. Rolling over and curling up on the couch, he focused on those sounds and fell asleep once more.

The next day, his ankle was fine, as he'd assumed it would be, and they all headed upstairs to clean up after he proved that his ankle was perfectly healed by walking up and down the hall...and then doing backflips. Several of the windows in the hallway upstairs had broken, and rain soaked the carpet. They grabbed as many towels as they could find, soaking up the water and picking up the glass. Thankfully, the windows in the bedrooms they had been staying in were all intact, and their rooms were dry. Which was...strange.

Peter sat on his bed, checking his phone and taking a look at the weather. Cloudy. Light rain...nothing like the storm they'd had. He checked the news for any mention of crazy storms or outages and found nothing. Sighing, he dropped back onto the pillows, clutching his phone in his hand. His ankle didn't hurt anymore. He felt fine. But something was wrong. He wondered if he could find anything online about this house...maybe it was abandoned like this for a reason.

"Peter?" He sat up, looking at the door between his room and Cassie's and found the girl hovering.

"Hey, Cass." She looked around his room before stepping inside almost nervously. "What's up? You okay?"

She nodded, hesitating for a moment. "I'm scared."

He leaned forward, gesturing for her to come over, and she hopped up on his bed, sitting cross-legged across from him. "Why?"

"I don't like this house. There are ghosts here."

He wanted to lie...to say that of course there weren't. But he couldn't argue. Not really. Because as much as he didn't believe in ghosts...he was starting to think that his belief in them was irrelevant. But what was he supposed to say? "I...yeah." He muttered.

"Did the bad lady make the chandelier fall?" She asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"I...I don't know."

"The grown-ups won't believe us. My dad says I'm just having nightmares."

Peter had to agree. They wouldn't believe them. Mr. Stark had been sympathetic but after Beck...sometimes Peter felt like he couldn't trust himself anymore. Like he didn't know what was real and what wasn't.

"What do we do?" She asked, and he wanted to answer her. He wanted to know what to do and he wanted her to feel safe and he wanted the summer to go by and he wanted to go home. He wanted to be safe.

"I...look, I don't think they can do anything to us. Like...they're just scary pictures." He told her, hoping he was telling the truth. "So...we don't look at them. Right? I think they only really come out at night, though." She nodded at that, lips pressed together, not looking too reassured. "I know it's scary. But...we'll be okay. You can come in here if you get scared. Okay? I'll protect you."

It was a promise he didn't know he could keep. But he made it anyway. Cassie nodded, eyes downcast. He wasn't sure if she believed him either. "Hey." He murmured, and she met his eyes. "We're gonna be okay. It's not that much longer. "

She shrugged a little, and he knew she wasn't comforted. Peter sighed, hopping off the bed. "Come on. Let's find something to do. Want to grab your ball? We can go outside?"

"It's probably all muddy."

"You're a soccer player and you're afraid of a little mud?"

Cassie grinned the, something lighting up in her eyes, and not ten minutes later they were out behind the house, kicking the ball back and forth, her teaching him drills and how to keep the ball in the air with his knees and before long, they were both covered in mud. Peter didn't care...as long as they were out of that house, he was fine with being dirty. He'd gladly do a hundred loads of laundry if he could spend his days outside.

Mr. Stark came outside and found them a little while later, chuckling as he leaned against the low stone fence. He chuckled when he caught sight of them, lifting an eyebrow at Peter as he approached, letting Cassie dribble the ball on her own for a minute. "Geez, kiddo. Did you two decide to take up mud wrestling?" He asked, lifting a hand and pushing some of Peter's hair behind his ear. It was such a fatherly motion...so gentle that it took him by surprise, but he quickly relaxed and grinned self-consciously.

"No. Soccer." It was gloriously warm outside, and Peter wanted to take his filthy shirt off and lie out in the sun...soak up as much of it as he could. The sun had chased the clouds away, and all remnants of the storm from the night before were gone.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to help out in the lab...but it looks like you found a better way to occupy yourself." He said with a teasing grin.

"Oh...no, I can come in! Just let me.."

"Nah. Keep playing." Mr. Stark cut him off, waving a hand. "Maybe you can show me how to do that instead." He jutted his chin toward Cassie who was balancing the ball on one knee, then tossing it in the air and catching it with the other.

"You might get dirty," Peter warned.

Mr. Stark shrugged. "I think I can handle it."

Mr. Stark wasn't any good at juggling a soccer ball, but he did give it his best effort, and Cassie was excited to have another player. Giving up the excuse that he was too old to play with them, he played on Cassie's team as the three kicked the ball around under the hot sun until even Peter was sweating and all three of them were filthy.

Rhodey came outside after a little while, laughing when he caught sight of them. "What happened out here?" He asked, arms crossed. He looked tired, Peter realized then. They all looked tired.

"I'm teaching these kids to play soccer." Mr. Stark told him, wiping his hands absently on his pants.

Cassie protested, making both men laugh, and Peter forced himself to focus on Rhodey...to ignore the looming house behind him. "Well, Steve made lunch if you want to come inside...you might want to take a shower first." He suggested, glancing at Peter with a grin."

"Thanks, platypus."

Cassie giggled at the nickname, picking up her soccer ball and following them back to the house. Like Peter, she hung back just a little as they stepped onto the huge covered porch. Mr. Stark glanced back at them, seeming puzzled for a moment, but he didn't comment, and the three of them headed upstairs to shower before lunch.

There were a handful of bathrooms in the house, and Peter grabbed his clothes and went to the one on the other side of the house, figuring Cassie and Mr. Stark would want to use the closer ones. They were fully stocked, with towels and soap and toilet paper...apparently Nick Fury had sent someone ahead of them to get it ready. Or maybe all Shield safe houses were always ready for visitors.

The door was shut, just like all the doors in Hill House, and Peter opened it with an eerie creak. Suppressing a shudder, he stepped inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. It was daytime, he reminded himself. If anything scary was going to happen, it would be at night. Right? He shook that thought off.

Just a house. Just a bathroom.

Inside the shower, he ran the water as hot as he could stand it to counteract the overwhelming chill in the room. Keeping his back to the shower curtain and refusing to look at it as if anticipating a Psycho-esque event, he closed his eyes, letting the hot water run over his face. He would call May, he decided. He would call May...he wasn't allowed to tell her where he was, but maybe it would help. Maybe hearing her voice would make him feel better.

It had always worked before.

Once he was cleaned off, he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, leaving the hot water reluctantly. The mirror was covered in steam, and he absently dried off, shivering as he hurried to put clean clothes on. Grabbing his brush, he stepped in front of the mirror and froze.

'Come Home Peter' was written in the steam of the mirror in drippy, smeared letters And Behind him, he could see a man who stood a full foot taller than him, his gaunt face just visible at the top of the mirror.

Peter screamed, hand forming a fist, and before he knew what he was doing, he was slamming his fist into the mirror.

**Thank you for reading.**


	7. Mirror Mirror

** _As an apology for the long wait before chapters last time, here is another one. :) _ **

Peter stared at himself in the shattered mirror, mouth open as he gasped at his own reflection, then spun around, searching desperately for whoever had been there...for whatever had been there. The bathroom was empty...but someone had been there. Staring down at him, hovering right over his shoulder.

Cassie had called him the Tall Man.

He shuddered, the cold suddenly so thick and all-consuming that he couldn't escape it. His arms broke out in goosebumps and his stomach turned as he backed away from the shattered glass until his back hit the wall, and then he was sliding down the wall, hands shaking. He finally came to sit on the floor, eyes darting around the room as he struggled to take in a full breath. The tall man. The bad lady. There were here. They were in this house and he couldn't say anything about it because everyone would think he was crazy!

Or maybe it wasn't real. Maybe none of this was real. He could remember all too vividly the visions Beck had forced him to live through...the decaying Iron Man mask and reaching out for May and MJ and Mr. Stark and everyone else he loved only to watch them plummet to their death. The world had shifted around him and his senses had tried to tell him which way to go...where to look and what to trust, but ever since coming here it was impossible to tell.

They were warning him all the time.

What if this wasn't real? What if Mr. Stark had never showed up with the Avengers to help him? What if Beck had won and Beck had him and what if there were no ghosts what if this was Beck what if it wasn't real? What if there was no Shield safe house and no Cassie and Scott and Rhodey and Steve and Mr. Stark what if he was alone what if he could never get out?

His lungs burned but he couldn't get any oxygen and his head spun and there was someone knocking on the door but he couldn't figure out where the door was or why there was knocking or what was happening. He closed his eyes, waiting for his senses to tell him what was real...what he could trust. But they were too loud...everything was too loud.

"Pete!" He wasn't sure how many times the person had called his name but he thought he heard it several times before it finally registered that someone was speaking to him. He kept his eyes shut tight, shaking his head. If this was Beck, he wasn't going to listen.

"Okay...is it okay if I touch you?" The voice asked, barely above a whisper.

Peter shuddered again, pulling his arms and legs closer to himself.

"I need to know where you're bleeding from."

"Not...not real...I don't…". He tried, but all his words came out as gasps, and the person paused.

"Look at me." They ordered in a tone he had to obey. He looked up, aware for the first time that he was crying. "I'm real. Here." Mr. Stark held out a hand and Peter stared at it for a moment, so afraid.

"What if it's not real? What if…"

"Stop." He told Peter gently. "This is real. I'm real. You're really here in this creepy house with me.

"Tell me...tell me something...something only you…"

"The first time we met was at my expo. You were wearing an Iron man helmet you still have in your bedroom and that gauntlet glove with a flashlight. Hammer's drone targeted you, but I landed behind you and shot it before it could hurt you." Peter took a deep breath, staring hopefully at the man kneeling in front of him. "I was terrified that night. Then I looked down and saw this little kid facing one of those things and I was sure that I was going to be the reason that little boy died...and I knew I could never live with myself if that happened. I felt the same thing when I saw you being pulled apart by that ferry. I was so afraid that I was going to be the reason some stupid, brave, genius kid died, and I couldn't live with it."

Peter reached out then, placing his bleeding hand in Mr. Stark's, and the man squeezed it. "There you go. Keep taking those breaths, Pete. This is real. All of it." Peter could feel him picking something out of his knuckles...glass. He'd punched the mirror and there were shards of glass in his hand. "I think I'm going to need some tweezers." He murmured, then Peter heard him get up, squeezing his own eyes shut. He tried to focus on what he could hear: his own heartbeat, Mr. Stark's heartbeat, their breathing...the pipes in this old house rattling and the rushing of water filling them.

Then Mr. Stark was back, picking glass out of his hand with tweezers as Peter tried not to look...just listen. Why had he done that? What had he punched the mirror? He hadn't been angry...he'd been terrified.

What if he got scared and hit someone what if he hurt someone what if…

"Pete." Mr. Stark's voice startled him out of his thoughts and he looked at him, waiting for the scolding or the questions or something...a demand for him to answer for his actions. Instead, Mr. Stark was wrapping his hand in a white bandage to cover the gauze he'd pressed to the back of his knuckles. "Keep breathing, okay? You're alright. It's just an old mirror. It doesn't matter."

"I saw something," He whispered, barely caring if the man thought he was crazy. He felt crazy. "The Tall Man...he was...he was there…". The man narrowed his eyes a little and Peter wanted to scream...to beg him to believe him. "Please...it was real...I really saw him...I keep seeing...seeing things and I don't...they're real but I don't know how...what if...what if none of it is real? What if I'm…"

"Okay." Mr. Stark told him simply, nodding and moving a little closer, reaching out to clasp his shoulder...he was using his 'problem solving' voice. "So you're seeing...what? People?"

"The lady...from the picture before and...and the man…what...whats happening?"

"I don't know, Pete," Mr. Stark admitted. "I've got to admit, ghosts aren't something I've ever given much thought to. But I've seen some pretty messed up shit, bud. Not to mention the whole time travel thing. So...hey, if you're telling me that you're seeing ghosts, then…". He hesitated, then gave a soft smile. "I believe you. I know you wouldn't make that upsb."

"But what if I'm not." Peter whispered, horror leaking into his voice. "What if Beck did something? What if I'm going crazy?"

Mr. Stark reached out a hand, resting his palm on Peter's cheek and grounding him. "You're not. I know you, kid. You're not crazy. You just got freaked out by something you saw. There's no shame in it. It happens. As for what it was…" He shrugged. "I don't know. We're stuck here for the foreseeable future, so the next time you see a ghost, just tell them to fuck off."

Peter let out a breathy laugh at that, and Mr. Stark smiled, patting his cheek. "Ghosts aren't supposed to be real."

"Yeah, well, neither are a lot of things, Pete. Now come on. Let's get something to eat, and then we'll work in the lab. I've been looking at a prototype for a new suit for you. I want your input."

No one asked why his hand was bandaged. No one said anything about how long it had taken for Mr. Stark and Peter to join them at the table...instead, everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts. Steve was staring down at his food, picking at it more than eating it. Rhodey kept shooting glances at Steve, while Scott kept an eye on his daughter. Cassie was the only one who even seemed to notice his hand, and she met his eyes for a tense moment before digging in to her own lunch.

Once they were done eating, Peter and Mr. Stark headed to the makeshift lab and got to work...but Peter's senses wouldn't let him focus. The later it got, the harder it was to keep his thoughts on his work. Being with Mr. Stark made him feel safer...but something was wrong, as his body insisted on reminding him. Still, he did his best, sticking close to Mr. Stark's side as they looked at the plans he'd come up with.

Mr. Stark was always thinking of new ideas for his suit, and Peter liked helping usually. "Wait...what if we used the compound I use for my web fluid...weave it into the fabric?" The man lifted an eyebrow, crossing his arms and inclining his head to show he was listening. "It's stronger than fabric, and it stretches...we'd just have to find a way to make it last longer than a couple of hours."

"Sounds like a good project to get started on." Mr. Stark told him with a nod, smiling a little, and Peter tried to lose himself in the science. Tried to focus on his lab notes and the process of trial and error and after a while, he almost managed it. He almost managed to forget where they were and just enjoy an afternoon spent in a lab with his mentor. With the man who was becoming something of a father to him. It wasn't something they'd talked about...Peter didn't know if they ever would. But if felt like Mr. Stark was thinking the same thing.

He had no idea how to bring it up, though.

That evening, Peter headed up to his room after dinner, phone in hand to call May. Cassie and her father were playing checkers in the living room, while Rhodey and Mr. Stark had started a movie. They'd invited Peter to join, but he'd begged off, holding up his phone and telling them that he was going to call May first. He thought he'd probably join them afterward. He didn't want to be alone upstairs. It was summer, so the sun hadn't set yet and wouldn't for a little while longer...still, the air in Hill House was cold and heavy and he wanted more than anything to go outside.

Maybe he would. It wasn't like he had a curfew...not really.

Peter hurried up the stairs, then turned, making his way toward his bedroom at the end of the hall, when he heard a voice. He paused, footsteps faltering as he cocked his head, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. It was Steve...but...hadn't Steve been downstairs? Peter wasn't sure. He didn't keep track of everyone...he had enough trouble keeping track of himself in this huge house. He followed the direction he thought the voice had come from. "Steve?"

"I wouldn't…". He heard the man say, sounding offended, and he hesitated at one of the closed doors.

Bringing up a hesitant hand, he started to knock but paused at the last second. Peter didn't know this room. He wasn't sure if it was someone's bedroom...hadn't he and Cassie looked in all the rooms on this floor?

"Of course you're safe with me."

The words made Peter shudder for reasons he didn't understand, and he knocked on the door firmly, wrapping hard on the wood. It was only a moment before the door opened and Steve opened it, looking confused. "Peter?"

"Hey...everything okay?" He asked, still hesitant. Maybe he'd been on the phone, Peter reminded himself. It wasn't weird for someone to go off on their own to make a phone call. It was exactly what Peter had been doing. "Sorry...I just...I thought I heard you talking to someone."

Steve blinked a few times as if waking himself up. "Oh...I...no, I wasn't talking to anyone. Just...reading."

Peter couldn't see beyond him into the room...but he figured it was just a sitting room like the one Cassie had found the cup of stars in that she still drank from every night at dinner. Maybe it was the same one. Why couldn't he remember what that room had looked like? "Oh. Sorry...I didn't mean to bother you."

Steve smiled, softening, and he looked like himself again. "You're not bothering me, Pete. You want to come in?"

He shook his head. "No, that's okay. I was going to call my aunt."

"Alright. I'll see you later."

Peter nodded, taking a step back and letting Steve shut the door with a click. He didn't want to go in that room...he wasn't sure why, but he didn't want to go exploring in this house anymore. He just wanted to go home. Or to another safe house. Or literally anywhere else.

May answered on the first ring. Peter stood by the window, the curtains pulled back and the window open as he breathed in the fresh air. "Hey, May."

"Hi, baby. How's it going?"

"It's...fine," Peter told her, not wanting her to worry. He'd just wanted to hear her voice. "The house is really old and kind of creepy…". She laughed, just like he'd known she would. "But it's fine."

"Good. I miss you. Is there any word on when you'll be coming home?"

"I don't know." He admitted. He hadn't asked...hadn't brought it up with anyone, no matter how much he wanted to. "I hope it's soon, though." She was quiet for a moment and immediately he felt bad. He didn't want her to worry...didn't want to be the reason she freaked out. So he went on. "How are things with Happy?"

"Oh, not bad." She told him, a smile in her voice. "We're having a lot of fun."

"Yeah?" He asked, voice a little less enthusiastic than before.

"Yes. But don't worry. It's nothing too serious. And we're being very safe."

"May!" He groaned, covering his face with his free hand.

"What? You're practically a grown-up, Peter. You should know that sometimes a woman and a man can have a fun, consensual sexual relationship…"

"May!"

"And if you ever find someone that you want to…"

"Stop. May, please. Please, I'm begging you." He cried, unable to fight the smile. "Please, don't say another word about this or you or Happy or...or that…"

She laughed out loud, and he felt his stomach unclench a little. May was waiting for him at home. She would be there if he needed to talk. There was still a world outside of this creepy house. And if he saw another ghost...well...he'd tell them to fuck off.

He dropped onto his bed, listening to her tell him about everything he was missing in New York. Then, when she'd told him she loved him and once he'd promised to be careful and to call her soon, he hung up, rolled over on his stomach, and Googled 'Hill House.'

_ **Thank you for reading!** _


	8. In The Trees

**Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading and reviewing! I hope you like the new chapter!**

A google search turned up relatively little on the history of Hill House. Laying on his stomach and staring down at his phone, Peter scrolled through the page of results he'd managed to bring up. There were a couple of links to Hell House, some horror book he'd never heard of and had no interest in reading, but most of the stuff he found on Hill House was general. Newspaper clippings about The Hill family that had owned this place. There were a couple of black and white photos and an obituary or two. Nothing that explained anything. Not really.

He saw a few pictures of the house and an article that gave an obscene amount of boring details about its construction. He couldn't have cared less about the architectural style or how long it had taken to build. They were all old...there was nothing new on the house that had, according to the scant information he'd been able to find on the place, been condemned after being left in disrepair following the death of the last member of the hill family. Then again, that made sense if Shield had snatched it up as a safe house.

The next question was, was there any information on Hill House on Shield's servers? And...could he get to it? He honestly doubted it...he was good, but not that good. Then again, he knew someone who might just be that good...

He tried researching the Hill family next, and after going through an ancestry site and clicking through dozens of results that were more than likely dead ends, he found it. A photograph of the woman...the bad lady. Her name was Poppy. Poppy Hill. She'd had two children, but that was all he was able to find on her, other than the year she'd died.

When he clicked on the photo, he felt his whole body go tense, senses giving a warning twinge. Her eyes were too bright as she smiled at the camera...there was something in them. Something unstable and awful. Her hair was cut into a bob that had probably been fashionable at the time, a headband going around the top of her forehead, and it looked like she was wearing the kind of dress they'd wear in the Great Gatsby. He stared at his phone screen, unable to look away.

He'd seen her. Before the chandelier had fallen and in the house the first time. He'd seen her smiling at him, a hand lifted in a wave. Was the other man...the tall man...was he her husband? Several men had lifted in Hill House...who knew which one the Tall Man was? But, most importantly, what did they want?

_Come Home Peter._

He shuddered, closing his internet browser on his phone and switching to his messaging app. The last message Ned had sent him was still on the screen and Peter began typing, not letting himself think too hard about what he was doing.

"I need you to find out everything you can about Hill House and the Hill family. Don't tell anyone. Don't get caught."

Placing his phone on his bed, he rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Beside him, the horn that emerged from the wall gave a soft hiss of air, and he refused to look over at it. Refused to give it the satisfaction, as dumb as that sounded. It was an old device used to communicate with other people in the house. From back before telephones. Like the bells in Downton Abbey which he may or may not have watched with Happy and May. Regardless, it wasn't anything to be afraid of. Nothing he needed to worry about.

Hill House seemed to quiet down over the next few days, at least for Peter. He didn't see Poppy Hill anywhere. No more light fixtures fell from the ceiling. Then again, he spent very little time alone. Every day was spent with Cassie, the two of them deciding by mutual, silent agreement, to spend as little time in the house as possible. So like kids in an eighties movie, they left the house after breakfast, the two of them sometimes helping the adults clean up, sometimes getting shooed off, and set to exploring the grounds. They both wore backpacks with Kindles loaded with books, their phones, snacks, and water bottles, tracking around the forest and sometimes finding a quiet place to sit and read.

Sometimes they took pictures with Cassie's camera, but never of the house. They climbed trees (well, Peter did with Cassie clinging to his back like a baby koala) and explored the different buildings, always avoiding that shed. Once Peter thought he heard something inside...like a kitten. But he didn't mention it to Cassie...didn't trust it.

_It's a trap it's a trap don't go in there_.

Mr. Stark and Scott joined them more often than the others, and the four played soccer together, Mr. Stark and Cassie against Peter and Scott. Running back and forth on that field, the four of them laughing and having fun and enjoying the feeling of being out from the shadow of that house would be Peter's best memories of that summer. It was like being with family. Cassie was like a little sister, Scott like a fun uncle. And Mr. Stark...well, Mr. Stark was like his dad. And the thought didn't make him feel sad or guilty...he knew that his real father wouldn't have wanted him to go without a father forever...and that Ben would have felt the same way.

Again, like kids in a teen movie, Cassie and Peter would go inside for lunch, help clean up, then head back outside. The house sat on what felt like acre after acre of woods and fields, so they took their time walking around, reading outside or telling each other stories. Sometimes Cassie would bring a coloring book and the two of them would each pick a page to color. It was nice, honestly. Nice to be out of that house and even though Cassie was a lot younger than him, she was a nice kid and he liked hanging out with her. It was simple and fun, in a way his life hadn't been for so long.

Evenings were spent with Mr. Stark in his lab, the two of them working on everything from Peter's web formula to plans for new Iron Man suits. Once, when they got sick of that, they brought Cassie in and they made baking soda volcanoes, sparing no details of the tiny villages at the base that would soon be covered in pretend lava. The other three came in to judge the competition and unanimously declared Cassie the obvious winner.

At night, Peter curled up under the covers and shut his eyes tight, refusing to look. He knew that there were things out there. His senses made sure of that. But every night, he managed to fall asleep, covers pulled over his head, firmly ignoring the way his doorknob would turn at night...once, he was sure his door was pushed open, gliding silently over the carpet. He just curled up in a ball and shut his eyes as tightly as he could, feeling like he was six years old again and sleeping in his room at Aunt May and Uncle Ben's for the first time. There was something in his room with him, he just knew it. He could feel it on every inch of his skin. But as long as he was quiet and small and still, it couldn't find him.

It was a week after the big storm that Peter and Cassie stumbled upon the treehouse.

It was just after noon, and they'd all gathered in the dining room for pizzas that Scott had gone out to pick up. For obvious reasons, they weren't allowed to have food delivered, so Scott was the designated food fetcher, with Cassie tagging along sometimes. After eating his fill, which, to his surprise, had been more than Steve, Peter followed Cassie out of the house and out back, the two of them heading into the trees. Sometimes at night, Peter thought he heard dogs barking, and he was always on the lookout, but they never ran into any dogs, and when he asked Mr. Stark if he ever heard any dogs, the man told him that he didn't.

"Then again, you do have super-hearing. Maybe they live at that cottage a few miles away. The place that used to belong to the caretakers."

Peter had accepted that, going back to his tinkering, not willing to give it any more thought.

The forest around the house was thick and full of huge trees that blocked it from the road entirely. Peter and Cassie had been traipsing around it so much that he liked to think he was starting to know his way around, although he and Cassie never wandered out of sight of one another. Not ever. He didn't know what he thought would happen. It wasn't like they were in the house...but still. There were dangers outside, just not ghostly ones…as far as he knew. She could get snatched by some random guy walking around or get bitten by a snake or Beck…

Peter shook his head hard at that last thought, feeling his body go cold. Not Beck. Beck couldn't hurt her. He was locked up. Taken care of. Gone. Beck couldn't hurt him. Couldn't trick him anymore. He could haunt his nightmares, but that was about it. So Peter shoved him back and put him in a little box in his mind that only sprang open at night.

Cassie spotted it first. "Look!" She cried, pointing at the treetops. He felt a weird jolt go up his spine as soon as he followed her finger with his eyes, jaw clenching as he took it in. It was a treehouse. Like the kind from stories. He'd never been in one himself...had never lived anywhere with a yard or trees. But this...it was like the textbook definition of a treehouse, complete with open windows, a red door, slightly angled roof, and a rope ladder that hung down, flush with the tree.

The younger girl looked up at him, a question in her eyes, and some part of him wanted to say no. Of course not. Of course, they couldn't climb up in the random treehouse! It might collapse! The rope ladder might break and send her falling to the ground. There might be monsters inside waiting to eat them to tear them apart to…

His feet were moving. Without conscious thought, he put a hand on the rope ladder and tugged. It was firm. "Let me go first. Make sure it's safe." He told her, unable to help noticing how she took a few steps toward the tree as if loath to let him leave her side. He grabbed the next rung, then the next, climbing easily until he was pulling himself up onto the platform of the treehouse. The red door was a foot shorter than he was, and he gripped the little brass doorknob, pushing it open and looking around inside.

The windows were nothing more than squares cut into the walls and framed, so there were leaves all over the floor in various stages of decay. A mouse scampered out from one of them, and he watched it scurry up the window and out of the house.

"Peter?"

"Come on up." Peter stepped out of the house, ducking under the door, and leaned over the railing. "Just be careful." He was ready to jump down and catch her if he needed to, but she had no trouble pulling herself up onto the platform with him, gripping the railing and joining him. "It looks like there are just some leaves." He told her, watching as she pushed the door open.

For a moment, Cassie just took it all in, looking around the room, stepping carefully over leaves and nudging them aside with her foot while Peter did the same. His senses were mostly quiet, or quiet compared to when he was in the house, and he was about to suggest they find a broom when he saw one in the corner. It was old and dusty itself, and Cassie grabbed it, pulling it away from a cobweb and sending a spider scurrying.

Since they didn't have a dustpan, they just swept the leaves out the door and over the side of the platform to the ground below. They seemed to disappear as soon as they went over, twirling out of sight, and when Peter looked at the ground below, he didn't see any piles of leaves. Then again, he figured, they probably just blew away. It barely took them any time to get the leaves out, and then they were left with an empty treehouse, the two of them standing inside and looking around the space. The inside of the door was a bright red to match the outside, and the space way maybe six feet by eight, big for a treehouse, but Peter could only stand fully upright on one side because of the slanted roof. Cassie's head brushed the ceiling on the low side, and she held the broom up, brushing away cobwebs from the corners before leaning it against the side.

The two of them had existed in silence while cleaning...hadn't discussed it or anything. But now, Peter felt like a spell had fallen over them. There was something about this treehouse...something different than the rest of the forest. He took a seat by the window, and Cassie did the same against the opposite wall.

For a long time, as the sun moved from the top of the sky, the two read their books, Peter occasionally checking his phone to text Ned. Sometimes Mr. Stark would check in on them while they were out exploring, and Peter would always make sure to text back quickly to assure him that they were fine.

"I wonder why we've never seen this treehouse before." Cassie finally asked. She didn't quite whisper, but her voice was low enough that she nearly was. He looked up from his e-reader, shrugging.

"Don't know. Maybe we never looked up."

Cassie looked skeptical, and even Peter knew that that wasn't true. They were always looking up. Always looking for trees to climb. Then again, he couldn't remember if they'd been to this particular section of the woods. If they'd explored these treetops. They couldn't have, he reminded himself.

They couldn't see the house from the windows ...just the treetops. Outside one window, a bird perched on a branch, it's feathers a brilliant red with black splotches on the wings. He'd never seen a bird quite like it, and he lifted his phone to take a photo. The bird flew off, though, and it came back blurry. Setting it down beside him once more, he went back to his book, feeling oddly peaceful. Warm. Safe. They were safe here. It was a treehouse far away from Hill House.

Ned hadn't been able to find much on Hill House, but he'd promised to try and look at Shield and see if he could find any more information on their safe houses without getting caught. Peter didn't tell Mr. Stark what they were doing...that they were basically trying to hack into Shield. Peter didn't think the man would approve. Mr. Stark had been watching him a little more closely since the incident in the bathroom, but Peter was fine. Everything was fine. He spent as little time in that house as possible and didn't look in the bathroom mirrors and didn't look around his dark bedroom.

There were rules to Hill House, and it felt like he was learning them.

They waited until the sun was touching the tops of the trees to head back. As soon as Peter's feet touched the forest floor, he realized that he was hungry. Starving, in fact, and he had to fight the urge to take off for the house to eat. Instead, he pulled. a granola bar from his backpack and ate it in two bites while Cassie made her way carefully down the rope ladder. Together, they made their way back to Hill House where they found Steve sitting on the porch, hands clenched in his lap, eyes on the forest.

"Hi, Steve!" Cassie called when they were a little closer, and he blinked as if pulled from a trance, turning to them with a smile.

"Hey, guys. Have fun?"

"Yeah!" Peter waited for Cassie to tell him about the treehouse, but she just moved past him, apparently in as big of a hurry to eat as he was.

"Steve?" Peter asked, leaning against one of the porch columns. Through the windows, he could see the statues with their anguished faces and defensive arms covering their faces and torsos. Arms held up like a woman in a horror movie, mouths stretched open as if in a scream or sob. Eyes wide and unblinking. Peter tore his gaze from them. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just...wanted to get out of the house for a bit."

Peter almost asked him then. Almost asked if he ever saw anything weird in Hill House. But it was bad enough that Mr. Stark might think he was crazy. He couldn't imagine confiding in Steve about the ghost he kept seeing.

"I think we have rats."

Peter blinked in surprise, unable to help but feel a little skeptical. He'd hadn't heard any rats...hadn't seen any evidence of them."Really?"

"I keep hearing scratching...in the walls. Especially downstairs."

"Oh...well, it's an old house." He allowed. "I haven't seen any though."

"I'm going to have Scott pick up some rat poison. Just in case."

Peter shrugged, figuring they were better safe than sorry. "Sounds good. Is dinner ready?"

Steve nodded, taking the hand that Peter held out with a smile. "I think so. Rhodey made his mom's fried chicken, and it's Tony's favorite, so we'd better hurry if we want a plate.

Peter raced inside, grinning when Steve chuckled, and he glanced back just in time to see Steve pull the back door shut behind him.

_ **Thank you for reading!** _


	9. Wake Me Up

**Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading and reviewing! I appreciate you guys so much! I hope you enjoy the new chapter <3 **

_Wake Me Up_

How long had it been since their move to Hill House? The summer days were passing and Peter found himself a little more comfortable at the safe house as the days passed. Mornings with Cassie. Lunch with the others. Afternoons with Cassie once more. Evenings with Mr. Stark after dinner until it was time for bed. They worked on mindless things in his lab...suit upgrades and coding and his web fluid, not that he'd put his suit on once so far that summer. He read books and colored pictures with Cassie and sometimes, it felt like his life before Hill House had been...a dream? A hazy memory? He thought it had something to do with the treehouse. Between playing soccer and running around the fields, Cassie and Peter climbed the rope ladder and enjoyed their quiet time in the treehouse, watching that funny red bird fly by every once in a while.

Peter never could get a good picture of it.

He still called May every few days, assuring her that things were fine. That he was having a good time hanging out with the others. And he chatted with Ned when his friend had time, the two of them texting back and forth about nothing. It was almost like he was home. Ned told him all about the things they would build and do when he got home, and would ask every once in a while when he was coming home...and Peter would just tell him that he wasn't really sure. No one had told him anything.

One day, not long after they discovered the treehouse that they still hadn't told anyone about, Peter came downstairs for breakfast. He'd had a nightmare that had woken him in the middle of the night, but thankfully, he hadn't started yelling or crying or otherwise embarrassing himself in a way that might summon Mr. Stark. Instead, he'd started awake and had stared at the ceiling, gasping for air and waiting for Beck or the Tall Man or Poppy Hill to jump out of the shadows and grab him...but there had been only the quiet sounds of the house settling and the people close by breathing.

He'd had trouble falling back to sleep, so he was dragging a little as he made his way down the stairs. Yawning and rubbing his eyes, Peter glancing around the kitchen where the others were gathering. He'd glanced into Cassie's room, taken aback by the wide-open door, but she wasn't in there, although her bed was made. Steve was sitting at the table, eating a bowl of what looked like oatmeal, while Scott ate cereal from the box until Mr. Stark smacked his hand.

"Use a bowl. What is this? A bed and breakfast for a biker gang?"

Peter snorted, grabbing his own bowl and holding out a hand for the cereal that Mr. Stark passed him.

"Cassie not up yet?" Scott asked after swallowing his mouthful of cereal. Peter shrugged a little.

"Uh...she wasn't in her room."

"Really?" Scott narrowed his eyes, looking a little concerned. "I'll go check on her."

Wondering how Scott was going to do that when he didn't know where she was, Peter shrugged and dug into his cereal. He hadn't been as hungry lately...it was weird. When he was in the treehouse with Cassie, it was like time barely passed...until it did. And when they'd leave, he'd find himself starving and oddly tired. Still, he chalked it up to just being one of those cool places in the world, like the blanket fort he'd built with Ned as a kid. The two of them had spent hours talking and building with LEGOs and playing with action figures and had barely felt the time pass. So maybe it was like that.

Rhodey came down and grabbed a skillet, asking if anyone else wanted bacon. Peter was just raising his hand when Scott came back downstairs, looking back and forth between the kitchen and the living room. "She's not upstairs." His tone made Peter put his spoon down, and he cocked his head, listening. Usually he could hear everyone nearby breathing, and now was no exception. But he didn't hear her.

"I'll go look for her." He volunteered, taking one last bite of cereal before standing. He wondered if she'd left the house...gone to the treehouse. But neither of them had ever gone there alone, so he didn't bother bringing it up. He didn't know why he hadn't said anything about the treehouse, anymore than he understood why his feet took him right to the library, head cocked as he listened. He could hear her...she was somewhere close.

Peter looked past the fireplace with its gaping mouth and log teeth and huge window eyes and headed straight for the spiral staircase, hurrying up the stairs and slowly, softly, stepping onto the second floor landing. There was the red door...and there was Cassie.

She was curled up against the doorframe, still in pajamas, eyes shut tight as she almost snored, her head resting against the bright red door. Peter shuddered instinctively at the sight, something cold going up his spine. That red door...there was another red door...and a red bird...for one moment, it all seemed horribly connected. For a moment, it was almost like he could see a shadow standing behind that awful red door and peering at him from the keyhole below the gaping mouth of the lion doorknob and…

No. It was just a door. Just a room. Just a house. A haunted house, sure. He'd come to terms with that. But this room was just a regular room in a regular haunted house. Peter moved closer to Cassie, making his footsteps light as, below him, he heard other footsteps. He figured that someone had followed him into the library, but before figuring out who it was, he knelt beside the girl. "Cassie?" He asked, reaching out and touching her shoulder, not wanting to freak her out but also not wanting to leave her there by that door. "Cassie?" He asked again, shaking her, and her eyes flew open.

"The tea party?" She asked, the words half-mumbled. He ignored them, sure that it had just been part of some dream.

"Hey, you okay?"

And then Scott was there. Peter stood, backing out of his way as he knelt next do his daughter. Part of him thought he should stay...but he knew he shouldn't. He shouldn't stay because this was private but also because that door was there and something was watching him and there was something in that room something he never wanted to meet something he never wanted to go near.

Peter shook his head and shook his thoughts away, turning and heading for the staircase, pausing to look at the rope that was slung over the top railing. It was draped along the rail, looped over and over and tied...in a knot...tied...in a noose? Peter blinked, shaking his head again and reaching out to get a better look...but it was just rope. Just a piece of rope that had probably been left there for years. When he got closer, he could see that it was frayed and worn. He didn't remember seeing it before, but that didn't matter. He probably had just missed it.

He went back to his breakfast, sitting at the table and going silently back to his bowl of cereal. Rhodey placed three slices of bacon on a plate next to him and he could just feel the questions in the air...but he didn't know how to answer them. Instead, he ate his food, thanking Rhodey for the bacon, then thanking him once more when three more slices appeared on his plate. Mr. Stark chewed his own bacon thoughtfully, and Peter had to wonder what he was thinking. Still, he didn't ask. It wasn't until Scott and Cassie joined them in the kitchen, her grabbing her own bowl for cereal, that Mr. Stark spoke up.

"You two off to get groceries today?" He asked Scott.

How long had it been since they'd gotten groceries? Peter tried to recall but couldn't, and some part of that scared him.

"Yeah, it looks like we're running low on a few things. Steve, you have a list?"

The man nodded, standing and opening a drawer next to the refrigerator where he found a list covered in scribbled words that Peter coulnd't make out. Scott took it, scanning it before folding it and shoving it in his pocket. "What do you think, pumpkin? Want to come?"

"Sure." Cassie murmured into her food. She looked strange...almost sick, but Peter figured that was probably just a result of being freaked out. After all, she hadn't sleep walked once while they'd been staying at Hill House, so he didn't think it was a regular thing. He knew he'd be freaked out if he woke up next to that door.

Promising to break back pizza for lunch, Scott and Cassie headed out right after breakfast, and Peter started gathering the dishes. Rhodey left to take a phone call, and Peter wondered if it was from Nick Fury while he scrubbed a plate, and without a word, Mr. Stark took the clean plate from his hand and dried it. It was domestic and comfortable, and when Peter turned to look for Steve, he was gone.

"Well kiddo, looks like you're stuck with me. Unless you're off to do whatever it is you kids do when you leave. What exactly are you two doing out there?

Peter laughed a little, then realized that he and Mr. Stark hadn't really talked in a while. Despite how close they'd gotten since the snap and despite everything with Beck and how Mr. Stark had been there for him...he'd...well, he hadn't shut the man out. He just hadn't wanted to be in that house. "We play soccer. Read. Wander around. There's tons of land...I don't think I've ever seen so many trees."

"Yeah. It's something." Mr. Stark agreed, sounding a bit bemused, and Peter figured he'd probably lived in a country manor house at some point in his rich life, surrounded by acres and acres of trees. "You ever...see anything out there?"

Peter shook his head, knowing what he meant and feeling his cheeks flush. Even if Mr. Stark said he believed him about the ghosts, he didn't think the man _really_ did. He probably never would unless he saw one. "No. Just birds and squirrels and stuff. I think I saw a deer once."

"It's supposed to rain later this week, so you kids might be stuck inside again." He said this with a pang of regret in his voice like he knew how much Peter didn't want to be in this house. "Maybe you and I can go somewhere."

"Are we allowed?"

"I won't tell One-Eyed Nick if you don't."

He laughed, handing Mr. Stark the last plate.

"So, what do you want to do today, Spiderling? I'm running out of stuff to do in this lab, a sentence I never thought I'd utter…"

"You!" Peter cried in mock horror.

Mr. Stark snapped a dishtowel at him, grinning when Peter yelped. "Watch it. It's only because my supplies, my robots, and my AI are all at home, where I thought I'd be by now." He continued, quickly brushing past that before Peter could start to feel guilty. "And since we can't go back to the tower just yet, I'll have to find new ways to amuse myself. What do you say? Want to find something interesting to do in this creepy-ass house?"

Peter nodded, up for just about anything as long as he could stick close to Mr. Stark. Besides, he didn't quite feel up to a day rambling around the forest. He felt strangely tired...exhausted, really, and he had no idea why. Still, he figured a day sitting around with Mr. Stark, working inside or just watching TV, would help.

He felt a lot safer in the house when he was with the man as if even the ghosts wouldn't dare mess with Iron Man. They headed to a room Peter had never seen before on the second floor that held bookshelves full of board games and decks of cards, and oddly, an old LEGO kit. He headed straight for it, brushing the dust off the plastic covering, and Mr. Stark cocked an eyebrow.

"I can't believe I've never seen that before." He murmured, crouching down beside Peter to get a better look. "I've been in her a dozen times…"

There was a card table in the corner, with two chairs on either side and in the middle, a vase with a dusty red plastic rose. Mr. stark grabbed the vase, moving it over to the windowsill where the sunlight made the dust all the more obvious, and Peter tore off the plastic, found the instructions for building the Star Trek spaceship, and then the two got to work.

When Scott and Cassie returned around noon with pizza and breadsticks and enough two-liters of soda to last them a while, Mr. Stark and Peter ate with the others, then went back to their building. Peter had almost forgotten where he was...everything almost felt normal. Fun. It was fun to build things with Mr. Stark and fun to chat with him as the two worked, focusing on the instructions and building and placing the little bricks together, swearing and breaking nails to pull them apart when they made mistakes.

Mr. Stark seemed worried about him, which...okay, that was fair. Peter had been feeling off for days, and wondered if he was somehow getting sick. "I don't know." He admitted. "I've just been tired. Kind of like when I got that flu before…" He had almost said 'before the snap' but that was something they never talked about...never acknowledged. And he didn't want to start now.

"Maybe we should call Bruce...have him come check on you."

"I don't want to bug him."

"He's stuck in some place called Bly Manor. I seriously doubt he's having a grand old time. Besides, kid, you look kind of rough."

"Thanks." Peter offered with a smirk. The man rolled his eyes.

"I mean it, Pete. Are you getting enough sleep?"

Peter shrugged.

"Nightmares?" He asked then, voice hesitant.

"Just...I mean, yeah, sometimes. But I can usually go back to sleep. It's no big deal."

Mr. Stark hummed under his breath, not sounding like he believed him, so he changed the subject.

"How's Pepper?"

"She's fine. Managing the company in my absence and all that. Helping May with the shelter." There was something else...something the man seemed to want to say, but he kept his lips pressed together, focusing for a moment on prying two bricks apart. Finally, though, he looked up at Peter almost hesitantly. "She thinks...well, it's really early, but she thinks...she's pretty sure that she's pregnant."

The word hit Peter hard, and for a moment he was silent. Perfectly still. Staring down at their project and trying to figure out what that word meant until he finally was able to put the pieces together...the two very obvious pieces. "She…" He stared up at a faintly amused Mr. Stark with eyes so wide they were starting to dry out already. "She's going to have a baby?"

"That is usually what the word 'pregnant' implies."

"She...you're going...you…"

Mr. Stark waited patiently, a soft smile growing on his face.

"You...congratulations! That's...that's amazing!"

"Yeah, pretty cool." He nodded, faking nonchalance, but Peter could see his excitement in his eyes...the way it was just dying to escape. "Still early, though. And my father sucked so who knows how I'll…"

"You're a great father!" Peter interrupted, and it took him a moment for his brain to catch up to what he'd just said. As soon as he did, every instinct urged him to take it back...to brush it aside or try to clarify and spare himself a little embarrassment. Instead, he flushed a little, going back to his building.

"You think so?" Mr. Stark asked softly.

"Yeah." Peter murmured, shrugging a little. "Sure...the best."

Mr. Stark reached out, a hand resting on the hand that Peter had been using to hold the instructions and placed it on his wrist, squeezing gently. "I had the best kid to teach me how." He told Peter so quietly that the words almost didn't make it across the card table.

For a moment there was only a warm, comfortable silence. The best kind of silence. And Peter felt his chest contract with it, soaking it all in. Then Mr. Stark patted his arm and pulled away, but he didn't take any of that warmth with him. It stayed in the room, filling the place that had seemed strangely cold before. "It's too early to know much yet, so we're keeping it a family secret until then. Just us, Rhodey, and you know, so don't go tweeting it or anything."

Peter snorted. "I don't use twitter."

"Oh yeah. That wasn't you getting into an argument with some Oscorp fan…"

"Okay, so barely use twitter." Peter hurried to cut him off, flushing again, and the man snorted.

"Kidding, Spiderling. Anyway, I trust you with your little Stark sibling."

That word hit differently. Sibling. Peter had never had siblings before. He'd felt close enough to Ned to call him a brother for a long time, but May and Ben hadn't really wanted children (a thought he tried never to dwell on) and his parents...well, hadn't had time to have more kids. So...now...was Mr. Stark saying…

"Yes, I meant it. Sibling. You're the big brother, kid. Congratulations. You'll be great." The words were said with an almost teasing air, but Peter knew he was serious. Knew he really meant it.

It took a moment, but Peter finally looked up at him. He wanted to say that he'd be the best big brother ever. That he'd protect that kid from everything. That he'd never let anything happen to them. But he could see in Mr. Stark's confident smile that he already knew all that. So he went with something a little lighter. "Can I tell May soon? She loves to knit baby blankets. And baby shoes. And baby hats..."

He chuckled. "Give it two months and sure. May will be the next to know. I'll even buy the yarn."

"Okay, but she's super picky about the kind of yarn she uses so…"

The man laughed outright at that, throwing a LEGo brick at Peter that he caught with a laugh of his own. "I should have known. How about a craft store gift card? Will that be good enough."

"Yeah, she'll love it."

Despite not doing much all day besides build with Mr. Stark and eat a bit more than he had been, by the time dinner was over, the dishes done, and a movie played in the living room where they all sat together, Peter was almost out for the count. His eyes were drooping, and he found himself leaning against Mr. Stark's shoulder, curling up on the sofa and relaxing even further when the man draped an arm around him. It was barely 8:30, and even Cassie was still awake, watching the PG-13 action movie and groaning when her dad covered her eyes every time the hero and the leading lady kissed.

"Dad, stop."

"Can't have your mind tainted by this filth."

"They're only kissing! You and Hope kiss all the time!"

Rhodey snorted and Peter thought he saw Scott flush. "Hey! What we do behind closed doors…"

"But you didn't close the door." Cassie was giggling now, and Steve chuckled under his breath. Peter grinned but didn't lift his head from Mr. Stark's shoulders. There was a blanket draped over him, and it felt safe...as safe as he could feel in the house. Like as long as he was with the others, covered in a blanket, and away from any doors, he was fine. Fineish.

The next thing Peter knew, someone was running their hand through his hair, and he jumped a little, mind going straight to Poppy...to the Tall Man. Instead, it was Mr. Stark who peered down at him, looking just a little concerned. "Pete? You awake?"

"Huh? Uh...yeah…"

"You ready to head up to bed, kiddo?"

"The movie?"

"All over. Cassie's out...we're all heading upstairs. Come on." He slipped an arm around Peter and eased him up, rubbing his back as the two stood, Peter leaning heavily against him. He felt strange...almost weak. Tired.

"Think...think I'm sick…" He muttered. Mr. Stark paused, placing a hand on his forehead.

"You don't feel hot…"

"Feel weird. Dizzy..."

Mr. Stark's grip tightened. "Alright. We'll call Bruce in the morning. Let's get you to bed, okay? You okay to walk?"

"Mhm." Despite his assurance, Mr. Stark kept an arm around him as he led him up the stairs, the two of them taking them slowly.

"Pete?" Mr. Stark asked, shaking him a little, and he realized that he'd stopped walking...that the two of them were stalled at the top of the staircase. "You with me, kid?"

"Yeah…" Peter nodded, blinking tiredly. "Don't know what's wrong…"

"Hopefully it's just a bug." The man murmured, urging him forward, then sitting him down on his bed. The next thing he knew, his pajamas were on the bed beside him, and Peter yawned, forcing himself to his feet once more to get changed. "You got it from here, Pete?"

"Yeah...sorry."

Mr. Stark ruffled his hair. "Don't worry about it, kid. Bruce will probably be thrilled to get a call from us. He's probably bored to death."

Peter didn't remember falling asleep. All he knew was that one minute, Mr. Stark was ruffling his hair and assuring him that Bruce would be happy to come by and give him a quick check up, and the next, he was staring at the ceiling of his dark bedroom, gasping for air, coming down from the panic of a dream he couldn't quite recall. Something...something about a tea party…

He wondered briefly why that phrase would even be in his brain when he remembered what Cassie had said when he'd woken her the day before. Tea party. He figured his subconscious had just held onto it. But that wasn't really the issue. The issue was how thirsty he was. Groaning and knowing he wasn't going to fall back to sleep when he was this thirsty, he stretched and sat up, closing his eyes for a moment when dark spots appeared in his vision. He felt weak...oddly weak. And so tired. But it was...he grabbed his phone to check...barely 3 in the morning, so it made sense that he'd be tired.

What didn't make sense was how cold he was when he climbed out of bed, or how hard it was to keep himself upright as he swayed. The whole room seemed to spin for a moment, and he put a hand to his head, briefly considering asking someone to just bring him some water before quickly vetoing it. No way he was waking someone else up in the middle of the night to get him a glass of water like he was a toddler.

'It's your fault they're here at all.'

He paused at that, halfway between his bed and the door, narrowing his eyes and suddenly wide awake. That...that didn't quite sound like him. Okay, sure, he'd been thinking that a lot, but something was...off. He looked around the room, senses still sending warnings up and down his spine but no more than usual. Maybe that's why he was so tired...his ever-present warning system letting him know that the house was haunted. He wished there was a way to turn it off...to say 'yeah, I get it. I'm living in a haunted house. Can you chill out for a second, though?'

Peter shook his head at himself and resumed his walk to the door. He'd just go to the bathroom, he figured, and get a drink from the sink. Then back to bed. And he had every intention of following through when he walked across the landing, heading for the bathroom in the middle which was furthest away from the others so he wouldn't wake anyone, but that's when he saw the light downstairs.

Had someone left the kitchen light on?

Before he was aware of it, his feet were taking him to the stairs where he gripped the railing, taking them one at a time as he carefully inched his way downstairs. Peter knew that he didn't need to turn the light off...not really. It wasn't like his apartment where they did their best to save electricity and therefore money. This was a Shield safe house. And even if it weren't, he was staying with the Avengers. Surely they had plenty of money...surely it didn't matter if they left a light on downstairs. Still, he walked, feet as close to the middle of the stairs as he could manage while still holding the railing.

Something was under the stairs something with grasping hands and gnashing teeth that would pull him under it wasn't safe he should be in bed even bed wasn't safe not in this house….

Peter reached the bottom step but refused to turn around...refused to let himself look at the looming dark of the living room. And he knew that even when he reached the light, which he realized was in the kitchen if he turned it off, he'd have to make his way back to his room in the dark.

The dark wasn't safe it wasn't safe there were monsters in the dark…

He walked as softly as he could, as if that would keep the ghosts away. As if they relied on their hearing to hunt. And there was someone standing at the very end of the hall past the kitchen...a figure just slightly above the floor, but he turned sharply into the kitchen, refusing to look.

If you don't look they can't get you if you're under your blankets if you close your eyes if you hold your breath…

Peter froze when he stepped into the kitchen, breath catching in his throat, hand against his chest, but as soon as his brain registered who it was, he was able to breathe again, leaning heavily against the door. He felt like his knees were about to buckle, and started to head for a chair to save himself the embarrassment. "Hey, Steve. You scared the crap out of me." He said with a weak chuckle.

The man didn't answer.

"Steve?" Peter stared at the man's back, his bare feet cold on the hardwood. The man didn't move, back stiff, hands clenching the sink as he faced the window. "Is everything okay?" Peter asked, approaching slowly. No response. "Steve? Are you alright?"

He paused on his way to the chair, managing to stand upright despite the dull ache growing in his head and the cold numbness spreading through his body. Something was wrong. Steve stood at the sink, hands on the counter, back stiff as he faced the window. Beside him on the kitchen counter was a plastic grocery bag, its handles tied up tight into a knot that would never come undone…they'd just have to rip the bag open.

In the dark window he could make out Steve's reflection, the man's eyes barely half-open, staring out into the darkness.

Peter approached hesitantly, wondering if he was sleepwalking like Cassie had been. Reaching out a hand, Peter touched his shoulder, fingers just brushing the fabric of his t-shirt. "Steve...are you okay?" He asked louder.

The man spun around so quickly that Peter's eyes were barely able to track the movement...and then hands were wrapped around his neck, fingers squeezing so tightly that he couldn't even speak, mouth dropping open as he met the soldier's blank face.

His eyes were shut...and over Steve's shoulder, Peter could see a familiar reflection in the blackness of the window.

**Thank you for reading!**


	10. Hungry

**Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading and reviewing! There should only be one more chapter before the end!! :) **

Hungry

The hand around Peter's throat lifted, and his mouth dropped open as he gasped for air that wouldn't come, his vision already starting to swim. Scratching at the fingers and trying desperately to pull them away from his neck, his whole body twisted in the air, feet swinging out but failing to make contact. Still, Steve didn't waver. Didn't open his eyes or change his expression except for a slight tightening of his jaw. It hurt...it hurt in a way he barely registered but it hurt and he couldn't breathe and Steve...Steve was trying to kill him!

There was someone else in the room...the other reflection in the window that looked out on the back yard where his treehouse was, but his vision was filled with black spots that would connect and then everything would go black and then...and then…

And then you'll be here forever with us forever you'll live here we'll keep you with us you'll finally be safe you'll finally be free you'll finally be awake.

Peter struggled harder, managing to land a single kick to Steve's thigh. The man didn't seem to react or even notice, just tightening his hold a little, and Peter managed to lift his other arm to grip his fingers. "Ple….ple...Ste...ve…" He tried, but the vice on his throat was so tight that he couldn't figure out how to get air past it.

And then she was there...standing right at Steve's shoulder, her face young and beautiful and her eyes bright and manic as she smiled at him. Poppy lifted a hand and touched the side of Steve's face. "They want to hurt him." She whispered, her words a sickly sweet parody of concern. "You know they'll hurt the children…they'll hurt your friends. Your team. They won't be safe unless you help them."

"Steve…" Peter tried again, kicking at him weakly as the world started to fade. "She...she's…" His fingers felt clumsy and useless and he could hear his blood roaring...could almost feel it in his head as his brain found itself starved of oxygen and then Poppy was right there, close to his face, a painfully cold hand coming closer until its fingers trailed down his cheek.

"You'll wake up soon." She promised, almost smiling. But she wasn't young anymore...wasn't alive anymore...the worms had eater her cheeks and her teeth were rotted and her eyes sunken and dead but still so bright still so manic...Peter brought his feet forward and then backward with every ounce of strength he had left, kicking backward over and over until there was a hole under his feet and he'd keep kicking he'd kick this whole house apart it couldn't have him it couldn't have Steve it...it couldn't...he couldn't let...

"Steve!" The voice came from far away, but then someone was grabbing the arm that held him and the darkness had filled his vision.

"The fuck...Steve! Rogers, let him go! Let him go!" There was movement that jarred him and for a moment the hand tightened and his whole body felt limp like a fish held out of water too long and then...and then the hand let go and he fell, legs buckling as soon as his feet touched the floor, body crumpling to the floor like a rag doll. He lay there, mouth open as he strained for breath, not sure if his eyes were open or shut. All he knew was that he could breathe...that his brain was getting oxygen again and that was important but it still hurt...it hurt so much.

"Breathe, kiddo. It's okay. Just breathe." He did his best and was suddenly aware of tears dripping down his cheeks. "You're okay." That was Mr. Stark. He knew that voice...would know it anywhere. Mr. Stark would keep him safe. He put a hand on Peter's shoulder, another pressing gently against the side of his throat, which hurt in a dull, far-off way. Still, Peter must have flinched because his hand moved and then it was running through his hair. Finally, Peter realized that his eyes were shut, and he forced them open, immediately searching the room for Poppy.

Mr. Stark was kneeling beside him, dressed in a tank top and sweatpants...but wasn't he cold? Peter was shaking, teeth chattering as he fought for air, and then Rhodey was kneeling on his other side in that too-small kitchen that seemed to be so full...he'd seen her...she was in the kitchen...they weren't safe! Peter gasped for breath and shook in his terror as his eyes flew around the room looking for her, but she wasn't there...he couldn't see her anymore. He was crying...he didn't mean to cry, but the tears fell anyway as he searched the room for her and tried to get enough air to keep himself from passing out.

"Oh god...Peter...I didn't...I didn't mean…". Steve was gasping for his own air on the other side of the kitchen, tears in his voice as he pressed himself against the counter. "I would never...Tony I wouldn't…"

Legs curling up to his chest, he put a hand over his mouth, sobbing into his hands and shaking as someone draped something over him. A robe...Rhodey had been wearing a robe and now it was wrapped around Peter's shoulders. He didn't mean to cry...didn't mean to be such a baby about it, but his whole body was shaking and he was crying and he couldn't stop. "I...I saw…". He started, shaking too hard to speak evenly, but Mr. Stark shushed him, putting a hesitant hand on his shoulder. Immediately he threw his arms around him as best he could, eyes shut as he hid in the man's chest. Safe. He was safe with Tony. Tony would protect him, right?

She was still in the house even if she wasn't in the kitchen.

"Don't try to talk. It's okay. Just breathe, Peter." He soothed, rubbing a hand up and down his back, the other firm against the back of his head, probably to keep his neck still.

"Please...is he okay?" Steve tried again.

"We don't know," Rhodey snapped before Mr. Stark could say anything. Then he was back to him, fingers ghosting around his neck, face solemn. Breathing was hard but possible, and he clenched his fingers in Mr. Stark's shirt, still hiding. "He's wheezing, Tony…"

Was he? All he knew was that his whole body felt like it had been drained of blood, and all he could do was slump against Mr. Stark and shake and cry.

"Have Friday contact Bruce now. If Fury says anything, tell him it's an emergency." Mr. Stark ordered, then turned back to Peter, voice softening. "Alright. I'm going to carry you…"

"I can carry him." Steve stepped forward, but Mr. Stark tightened his arms around Peter, practically snarling.

"You've done enough, Rogers. Back off."

Peter shook his head, which hurt, and Mr. Stark put a hand on his cheek. "Don't move your head, kid. We need to have Friday scan you. Bruce is going to come take a look...he won't be long."

"Wasn't him." He rasped, his voice barely audible. "Please." Peter couldn't explain, but he hoped Mr. Stark understood. 

The man narrowed his eyes. "What? What wasn't him? Wasn't who?"

"Didn't mean to…"

"Tony, let me carry him. You'll hurt your back." Steve urged, stepping forward.

Mr. Stark frowned again, but Peter reached out an arm to Steve who scooped him up with no problem, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Rogers…". Mr. Stark started, but he interrupted.

"Did you see her?" Peter asked Steve, lips trembling. Mr. Stark went silent, and it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

Steve met his eyes, jaw tight, then gave him a slight nod.

He'd seen her too. Peter shuddered, gripping his shirt in one weak fist as he fought back tears and the terror that settled right in his stomach. Even when Steve put him down onto the couch, a careful hand behind his head stabilizing his neck, Peter couldn't stop shaking, tears still falling down his numb cheeks.

"Friday?" Tony asked, holding out his watch. "What's the damage." His face was serious...grim, but he stayed close to Peter, one hand resting on his. Peter closed his eyes, not wanting to see that serious, worried look on the man's face, and the hand on his squeezed gently. Rhodey must have stepped out because Peter heard him reenter the room and Steve...Steve was in there too, somewhere further away from the couch but close enough for Peter to hear every breath he took and the way his heart raced with what he had to assume was nerves.

She didn't answer audibly, but Mr. Stark pulled his hand away and pulled his phone out of his pocket, then swore softly, causing Peter's eyes to fly open. He felt okay...well, okay considering. His neck hurt, and he felt dizzy, but he could breathe just fine with the addition of a raspy wheezing when he did so.

"Tony?" Rhodey asked, sounding ready to go get Bruce himself.

"There's a black bag in my lab...um...probably on a chair. Grab it for me?" He asked softly, voice tense. Peter watched Rhodey hurry to do so, and Mr. Stark knelt beside him, looking very serious. "You're malnourished, kid. Like...seriously malnourished. According to Friday, you've only been eating half as much as you should have."

"Oh…" Peter said dumbly, narrowing his eyes. He...he'd eaten at dinner...right? And then...for lunch, he usually had a sandwich or...or whatever everyone else was eating. Right? Had...had he not been eating enough? "I...I haven't really been hungry…" He muttered, remembering the treehouse...how he and Cassie had spent hours in there without touching their granola bars or water bottles...how they had gotten lost in their books and lost in the watching for the little red bird.

"Bruce is on his way." Rhodey put in as he came through the open doorway, holding out the black bag that Mr. Stark hurried to take.

"Thanks." He muttered, opening the bag and pulling out a testing kit complete with a small white stick that Peter was pretty familiar with. He'd had low blood sugar plenty of times before Mr. Stark had worked to make a granola bar for him that he could eat during the day, specially designed for his metabolism. Once, it had been so bad that he'd nearly collapsed in the lab, which had been what had prompted Mr. Stark to make the bars in the first place, and he had been instructed to carry them with him everywhere. So he held out his hand without protest, wincing at the short, sharp sting of the needle piercing the pad of his pointer finger, then watched as Mr. Stark held the test strip to the little droplet of blood.

They didn't have to wait long for the machine to inform then that his sugar was low, and as if by magic, Rhodey pulled out a granola bar, handing it to Mr. Stark who in turn handed it to Peter once he'd pulled the top of the package open.

He'd named them Peter's Protein Bars for alliteration purposes, and on the package was the SI emblem with a tiny spider below it.

Peter took a bite, then another...they didn't make him feel almost instantly better like they usually did. Instead, he had to close his eyes for a moment as the world spun around him. Mr. Stark put a hand on his forehead, which felt clammy and cold, then brushed his hair back. "Still no fever. I'm going to grab you a blanket...we can wait down here for Bruce. You can both go back to bed."

"Tony...I swear…" Steve started, pausing as if he thought Mr. Stark would interrupt.

He didn't, just turned to give him a serious, almost cold look. He grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over the robe already wrapped around him. Once he was done, he brushed a hand over Peter's hair, standing over him, his stance protective as he watched Steve.

"I...I was in bed. The last thing I remember is going to bed and I had this...this awful dream and...shit...it was...there was something in the house. I was dreaming about something in the house and it was going to hurt Peter or Cassie and...and they were in a treehouse but they weren't...it wasn't safe and...I swear...I didn't know. I was asleep. I was dreaming. I wouldn't hurt Peter. Never.

Peter wanted to assure Mr. Stark that all that was true...that Steve's eyes had been closed and Poppy had been there...but his blood had gone cold at the word 'treehouse.' No one had said anything to Steve about a treehouse...so how would he know about it? Had he seen it somehow? Peter supposed Steve could go walking just like anyone else. But no one had ever come out while they'd been in the treehouse. Never. Peter would have heard the door open. Would have heard footsteps if they'd gotten close enough to see it. But...maybe his senses hadn't been working as well as usual. He was malnourished, according to Friday. He knew that could slow his healing down. Maybe it could dull his hearing too.

But how could he have become malnourished without noticing? His spider-sense felt fried...like an alarm that had been going off nonstop for weeks and the battery was finally dying. He hadn't been hungry in so long...not regular hungry. Sure, he'd been starving after a full day of barely eating and spending a day outside...but for breakfast, he'd been eating the same portions as Mr. Stark and Scott and Rhodey for the most part...maybe a little more. He'd usually scarf his lunch down, but it was never more than a sandwich or two, and dinner...his memories of time spent in that house were so strange and fuzzy...like May's base coat of nail polish...you could still see her nail but through a glossy coat of clear that hid the flaws and...and he was tired. So tired. His whole body was tired, from his brain to his fingers to his feet that refused to move to get him into a more comfortable position on the couch.

Mr. Stark draped a blanket over him, touching his hair one more time. "I'll be right back." He murmured, then his footsteps faded until both he and Steve were in the kitchen, their words soft and tense. Peter wanted to join them...wanted to tell them both that it hadn't been Steve's fault. But he couldn't even open his eyes so he let himself drift away even though the living room wasn't safe.

He fell asleep before Mr. Stark returned.

The next thing he knew, a gentle hand was touching his throat. His spider-sense, which thrummed in the back of his mind like a constant headache, wasn't any louder than normal, but he still flinched in surprise, blinking himself awake and staring up in surprise at the shadow over him.

"Hey, Peter. It's just me...it's Bruce.." The soft voice of Bruce Banner assured him gently, and as his eyes adjusted to the low lighting, he saw that the voice told the truth. He relaxed back onto the sofa, barely managing to take in the fact that it was almost morning...there was a faint light coming through one of the windows on the other side of the room. He was still tired. Really, really tired. Peter wondered why it was just hitting him now...why he hadn't felt so tired before...but, he realized, maybe he had. Maybe it had been coming upon him slowly, day by day, culminating in an inability to stop Poppy from trying to kill him via Steve.

Had it been her plan all along?

The thought made him shudder, and Bruce pulled the blankets up over him a little further, patting his shoulder before straightening and speaking to who must have been Mr. Stark although Peter couldn't see him from his place on the sofa. "I want to get him started on an IV. I think it'll help with the weakness he's feeling. His throat looks okay. It's already healing, and it doesn't look like there's going to be any permanent damage. It's a good thing you called me when you did." He lowered his voice a little and Peter realized that his own eyes were closed. Did they think he was asleep? Was he?

"But...why isn't he eating?" Mr. Stark asked, his own voice something just short of desperate. "He's been spending a lot of time outside...him and Cassie both. They hate this house...hell, I hate this house. But...is it something else? Is he sick or…"

"I don't know," Bruce admitted. "Honestly, Tony...he's not showing signs of any other kind of illness. But maybe...depression? I mean, after everything that happened...and he was definitely blaming himself for this whole situation…"

"It wasn't his fault." Mr. Stark snapped defensively. "Beck screwed with him...hell, it's my fault if it's anyones. I should have taken care of Beck when I had the chance. I knew he was nuts. I knew he'd want to get revenge on me...I just never thought he'd go after Pete."

"We all know it wasn't his fault." Bruce soothed, and something poked Peter in the arm, making him flinch...still, he couldn't open his eyes. Couldn't wake himself up. He knew he was on the sofa. Knew that Mr. Stark and Bruce were still in the room and talking...but it felt like everything was slipping away. "No one blames him for this, Tony. I hope we've all made that clear to him. None of us think this was his fault. These things happen, especially in our line of work, and Peter was right to call for help."

Those were the last words Peter heard before he woke again, this time slowly, eyes drifting open to stare at the ceiling. For a moment, he wasn't sure how he'd gotten there, but then there was a hand on his hair, and he turned to find Mr. Stark sitting in a recliner that had been pulled over to his side. Behind the chair was an IV pole, and a tube ran from it in his direction. He traced the path of the tube slowly, following it all the way to a needle that disappeared into the back of his wrist. "Oh." He murmured, looking back up at Mr. Stark before it all came back. "Oh...is Bruce here?"

"He just left about an hour ago. It's nearly noon. How are you feeling?"

"Uh...okay…" He tried, starting to sit up. It was easy...or, easier than before, and he wiped a hand over his face. "Almost noon?"

"Yeah...we brought you in here last night...or...this morning. Do you remember?"

Peter nodded. "It wasn't his fault. He was asleep."

Mr. Stark regarded him seriously for what felt like a long time, seeming torn between worry and outright fear. "Pete...last night...you asked Steve if he saw her."

Peter answered the question before Mr. Stark could ask it, terrified that the man would think he was crazy but also terrified of this house. "Poppy. Poppy Hill. The woman I saw in the window and...and other places. She used to live here and…" He cut himself off at the look on Tony's face, his jaw clicking shut. "You think I'm crazy."

"We've gone over this, Pete." Mr. Stark told him gently, reaching out. "I know you're not crazy. I am willing to believe that maybe there are ghosts in this freaky house. But ghosts that can make people do things in their sleep."

Peter was silent, eyes hot as he stared at the window which was covered by thick, billowing curtains. He hated them. Hated every part of this house. He wanted to burn it to the ground.

The hand that touched his own made him jump a little, and he turned to find Mr. Stark leaning forward, a hand resting on his. "Okay." He said simply, smiling when Peter lifted an eyebrow. "Okay, so Poppy made Steve do it."

"You don't have to…."

"Hey. I said okay. If you say you saw it, I believe you." There was a sincerity in his eyes that nearly broke Peter, and he had to close his eyes, leaning his head back once more. Mr. Stark stood, sitting on the sofa beside him and wrapping an arm around him, and then Peter was crying. Really crying in a way that made his whole body shake. "Oh, buddy…" The man murmured, rubbing his back, but Peter shook his head.

"I want to go home," He begged as if Tony had that power. "I don't want to be here anymore. I just want to go home."

"I know...I know Pete."

He was falling apart. And Poppy was there, somewhere, in the house. So was the Tall Man, and whoever else lived in this dead place. And that room upstairs was waiting for him...they wanted him. This house wanted him! Mr. Stark rubbed his hands over his back but he couldn't stop shaking. He felt surrounded...like a hand was reaching out to grab him from the dark. Like fingers were going to creep up from under the sofa and pull him under.

A whimper escaped, then another, his soft cries filling the room as he tried to burrow even closer, his breaths coming in desperate, terrified pants. He wanted to go home but if he got up, something would grab him. Something in this house would get him and he didn't know what it would do to him but he knew it would be bad. "I'm sorry…" He choked out, hating himself for crying like this...for falling apart. But the man shook his head.

"Shhh," Tony whispered, rocking then back and forth, a hand trailing through his hair. "It's okay, Spiderling. You're safe."

He shook his head, not able to articulate how unsafe he felt. A low whine came from his throat, and Mr. Stark reached over and grabbed the blanket from the sofa, pulling it up over Peter and wrapping it tightly around him. Outside, the crack of thunder made Peter jump, and like a toddler, he burrowed closer, praying that Mr. Stark could keep him safe. That somehow, Iron Man would be enough to keep Poppy away. To keep him safe from this house. "Deep breaths, Pete. Come on." He murmured, his hand firm over Peter's back, grounding him in the moment.

Part of Peter was bewildered. Why was he only falling apart now? But another part of him knew...she'd gotten to him. Finally. She'd used Steve and she'd gotten him and if she'd gotten him once she could do it again. What use was Spiderman with his strength and powers and brains against a ghost?

"There you go." Mr. Stark rubbed his back more firmly, rocking him back and forth, and Peter realized he was breathing almost normally again. "I've got you, kiddo. I'm going to call Fury, okay? See how much longer we have to stay in this godforsaken place."

God forsaken...that was the perfect word, Peter realized with a shudder.

"I'm sorry," he apologized again, but the man shook his head, pulling away and running a gentle thumb under his eye.

"We need to get out of this place. I don't for one second think you'd be this freaked out over nothing...it's dangerous." Thunder rolled again outside, and the room was briefly illuminated by a flash of lightning. "I'll call him today, as soon as you have lunch. Scott ordered Chinese, so I'll grab you some food, okay? Stay right here, and I'll take that IV out as soon as you've eaten."

Peter ate everything Mr. Stark put in front of him, including two full boxes of stir fry with chicken and vegetables, three egg rolls, a box of rice, and three little sugar covered donut things that were actually really good. By the time he was done eating he felt a lot better...more clear-headed and less hopeless about their situation in general...even a little more embarrassed about his breakdown than before. He hadn't meant to freak out like he had...Mr. Stark would call Nick Fury and ask if they could go home soon and everything would be fine.

Mr. Stark took out his IV, pressing a piece of cotton gently to the tiny hole in his arm and covering it with a bandage. "How do you feel?" He asked, his expression demanding an honest answer.

"Better," Peter told him truthfully. "A lot better."

"We'll make sure you're eating enough from now on." The man ruffled his hair, then grabbed the TV remote. It seemed, in the meantime, that they would relax for a while. Peter hadn't been told officially that he was on bed rest, but it seemed implied. So he curled up at Mr. Stark's side and watched TV for a while. Mr. Stark excused himself after about an hour, telling Peter that he was going to make a call, and Peter decided to take the opportunity to do what he'd wanted since he'd woken up...find Steve.

After a quick trip to the bathroom where he washed his face and got a good look at himself in the mirror which showed dark circles under his eyes and terrible looking black and blue bruises around his neck, Peter walked down the hallway, ears open for any sign of Steve. When he tapped on the man's bedroom door, there was no answer, so he assumed he wasn't there. All of the doors upstairs were shut tight, as they always were, and every time he passed one, he felt his chest tighten a little, senses sending warning after warning that he ignored. Thunder boomed outside, and he wished Thor were with them. Surely no ghost would mess with the god of Thunder. He always seemed just a little mythical himself and never before had Peter wanted the man nearby so badly. Heck, he wanted all of them nearby. He even found himself missing Sam, who took every opportunity to tease him, and Bucky, who called him 'spider-boy' and seemed perpetually put out with him.

He knew they both cared about him...they hadn't even hesitated to come and help him with Beck. No one had.

Peter came to the door, then, where he had heard Steve talking before...at least, he thought it was the right room. Hesitating for a moment, he tapped on the door, then took a step back as if preparing himself to meet whatever opened the door.

It was just Steve who answered though. He'd known Steve for years. Steve had sparred with him a million times and had told him he was doing a good job in training and Steve would never hurt him. But when the man saw him, he went pale as if he'd seen a ghost. The thought almost made Peter laugh.

"Hi." Peter felt a little awkward standing there, his cheeks heating up as he dropped his gaze. He wished he had brought a scarf or something...anything to cover up his neck.

Steve cleared his throat and seemed to want to look anywhere but at Peter. "Peter...how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine...I just ate my weight in Chinese food so I guess that helped." He shrugged, feeling dumb. But his words seemed to make Steve smile if only a little.

"That's good."

"I just…" Peter bit his lip, then tried for a smile. "I wanted to tell you...it wasn't your fault. I know you were sleepwalking and...it wasn't you."

"I'm the one that nearly killed you, so forgive me if I disagree," Steve said dryly.

"It wasn't you." He said again, this time with more conviction in his voice. It really hadn't been.

Something in his tone must have caught Steve's attention because he looked up, meeting his eyes, then glanced back and forth, eyes searching the hallway before turning back to Peter. Jerking his head, he invited Peter inside, and Peter followed him, Steve taking a seat in the red armchair and Peter in a gray one on the other wall.

"You asked me if I saw her."

Peter nodded but didn't speak. Didn't know if he could. His throat was suddenly too dry, his stomach protesting the food he'd eaten for a moment.

"I keep having these dreams...about...about this woman." He spoke as if in confession, leaning forward and meeting Peter's eyes. "She has short hair and…"

"And a headband." Peter finished, his own voice soft like he was afraid of summoning her. "And she dresses like a flapper." Steve blinked at him, sitting up and narrowing his eyes. "Her name's Poppy. Poppy Hill. She used to live here...and I think she was crazy."

Steve stared at him, mouth open just a little. "Poppy." He repeated in a whisper, and Peter nodded. "She...she told me that...that someone was going to hurt you...you and Cassie. And...and that I had to save you."

"She told me I'd wake up soon," Peter said, shuddering at the memory. "I saw her the night the chandelier fell...I think...I think she did it."

"So…" Steve gave a hopeless little laugh. "She's a ghost."

Peter shrugged.

"This house...has a ghost?"

"Ghosts." He clarified. When Steve just stared, he explained. "Cassie came into my room on one of the first nights...said there was a tall man in her room. I saw him...in the mirror."

Steve blanched. "A tall man."

"He's really old. Wears a hat...and uses a cane. He's dressed in a coat and...and he floats off the ground."

"The Tall Man." He repeated. "I thought...I thought I dreamed about him." Steve shook his head. "I can't sleep. I keep having these weird dreams and then I wake up in the middle of the night." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I want to get the hell out of this house."

"Mr. Stark is going to call Nick Fury. Ask him if there's another place for us to stay...or if we can go home."

Steve nodded. Peter sounded more hopeful than he felt, really. Would Nick Fury believe Mr. Stark? Or would he just think that Beck had gotten to Peter? That he couldn't tell what was real from what was just an illusion anymore? Because sometimes Peter wasn't so sure himself.

Peter joined everyone for dinner that evening and could tell the others had been worried, especially Cassie who sat beside him and asked him if he was okay at least six times. She'd slept through he excitement, but had apparently been unable to miss the hole in the kitchen wall, or the fact that Peter had been in the living room for most of the day, asleep or watching TV with Mr. Stark where she had been instructed not to bother them. After dinner, Mr. Stark assured her that she was welcome to join them, and the four of them, with Scott joining in, sat in the living room and watched a movie until Cassie fell asleep on her dad, and Peter was dozing off on his.

Just like the night before, Mr. Stark led him up to his room, but this time, he was just tired and not quite so dizzy. He still felt a little off, though, and Mr. Stark had assured him that it was okay, that he'd probably feel that way for another day or so until they got him caught up on his calories. He could hear Cassie in the other room, sound asleep, from where her father had carried her upstairs, and Mr. Stark ruffled his hair before wishing him a goodnight.

Peter shot off a quick text to Ned...it had been so long since he'd actually talked to his best friend, and he told himself he'd call him in the morning. He texted May too, telling her he loved her. There were times, in this place, that he almost forgot her….that he almost forgot she existed. That he almost forgot the entire world outside of Hill House. He hated it...hated the fact that he could go days without thinking of his friends or school or being Spiderman. He'd thought it would be so much harder...so much harder to give up Spiderman for an entire summer.

Peter hadn't thought of his suit in weeks.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he rarely did. But the next thing he knew, he was cold. He curled up in the bed, shivering from the draft that seemed to come from nowhere. Why was he so cold? Groaning, he pulled the covers up over him. He was in Hill House. He was in bed. He was safe in bed, under the covers. Nothing could get him under the covers.

The footsteps behind him pulled him from his dozing half-sleep, and he yawned when someone crawled into bed with him, a small arm wrapping around his waist and grabbing at his hand. "Cassie? Did you see something" He asked, shivering again, trying to ask if one of the ghosts had been in her room but too tired to properly articulate the question. It was pretty normal for her to come into his room at night, curling up against his back under the covers, her small, cold feet pressing against his legs until she warmed up. He didn't mind. He wanted to keep her safe even if he wasn't confident in his ability to ward off ghosts. She didn't answer though, and his sleepy brain tried to figure out why. "Did you have a nightmare?" That had happened once or twice too, and she never wanted to talk about them.

The hand holding his tightened and it would have hurt had he not been enhanced. "Must have been bad, huh? It's okay. You can sleep with me tonight." The hand squeezed even tighter, pulling him further out of sleep. "Easy, Cass." He murmured, squeezing the cold hand back, but it only tightened around his until it almost hurt. "Cassie? Ease up, okay?"

The hand squeezed one more time and Peter finally opened his eyes, frowning and sitting up a little, rolling over to find…

No one.

His blood went cold and he felt his stomach turn, looking down at his hand and then the cold spot beside him in the bed.

"Cassie?" He asked in a shaky voice, looking desperately around the dark room, both wanting and not wanting to see the answer to his unasked question.

There was no answer.

And it wasn’t until he looked up that he noticed the dark figure standing beside his now-open bedroom door. 

**Thank you for reading!**


	11. Screaming Meemie

_ **A huge thank you to everyone who has been reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy the final chapter! ** _

_ **(Sections of this chapter's dialogue were taken from the show Haunting of Hill House)** _

Peter blinked hard, shaking his head, but the figure didn't leave. Instead, she stepped forward, revealing her bright red lipstick and a black headband. From her ears hung two long diamond earrings, and she gave him a winning smile. "Hi there, sweetie." She greeted, placing a hand on the doorframe. Peter scooted back against the headboard as she approached, but found himself frozen in place when she reached out a hand tipped with long red fingernails, fingers gently touching the side of his face and tilting his chin up to look at her. He could feel her! Could feel the gentle press of her fingers into his skin. "You are a looker, aren't you, doll? Look at those baby browns. I'll bet the girls just line up for you, huh?"

He shuddered, body flooded with cold, and she dropped her hand, still smiling. Still looking so friendly and just a little amused. "Don't worry, sugar. I'm not going to hurt you."

"You tried." He bit out, pushing the covers away and glaring at her as he tried to scoot to the other side of the bed.

Poppy gave him a funny little smile. "Oh, Peter...I'd never hurt you."

Somehow, his name coming from her lips was worse than the nicknames, and he flinched. "You tried to drop a chandelier on Cassie! And you tried to get Steve to kill me!" His voice was loud, and he was sure that someone would hear him, but the house was just as silent as usual.

The woman cocked her head, lips twitching. "Come on, sugar. I want to show you something." Peter just stared at her and she tilted her head once more, urging him forward. "Shake a leg."

To his own surprise, he found himself throwing his legs over the other side of the bed, shivering at the rush of cold air. Outside of his window was black, no sign of a moon or stars. Moving hesitantly, he followed Poppy who waited for him, feeling weirdly light...like he wasn't in his body at all. She strolled down the hall like she owned the place, looking briefly at the paintings on the wall, sometimes trailing her hand along a tapestry, and Peter followed a few steps behind, glancing at the closed doors of Mr. Stark and Scott. Would they wake up if he screamed? Would Poppy get angry? She didn't seem angry...just in a hurry to get somewhere. Finally, she came to a room, pausing with a hand pressed to the wood, then pushed it open.

And then they were in the room that Mr. Stark had led Peter a couple of days ago, the card table with the LEGOs on one side and tablets with sketched out plans on the other. In the windowsill, the red rose still sat in its vase. Some part of him thought that he should be worried. There were plans for his suit and the Iron Man armor scattered around...stuff they'd brought from the lab. But she just laughed a little, turning in a circle. "I love what you've done with the room." Poppy ran her fingers over the backs of one of their chairs, then eyed the tablet on one table. "It was a dressing room for me. And then a nursery."

That's when it hit him...the weird feeling and the fact that he hadn't woken anyone. "I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

The woman tilted her head, the lights above making a soft humming sound. She wore a teal dress that seemed to be made of satin, all shiny and clingy, and it just brushed the floor. "Of course you are. I'm a dream, and so are you, and so are we." The woman looked at him earnestly, hands pressed to her heart. Then she laughed a little, and he was sure he heard something...a horn honking. People talking just outside. "And this room! I could swear I hear the sounds of the city. I do miss the sounds of the city, don't you? The car horns always made me laugh." She sat down in Mr. Stark's chair at the card table, sitting back and crossing her knees. "But you know all about that. New York, right? Now that's a town."

Peter just stared at her, eyes darting to the papers that sat on the table and the tablets and all the things he and Mr. Stark had worked on together, knowing he should be more scared than he was. The woman watched him before giving a little laugh. "Come, sit. Don't worry about all those boring papers. God knows I can't figure them out. You men and your science." There was something almost mocking in her smile as she gestured to the chair he'd sat in at the card table. "Sit." She ordered again, and so he did, folding himself in the chair and sitting back, trying to keep his distance.

Poppy stared at the half-finished Star Trek LEGO model, a finger idly running over the side. "My boy would have loved these. He always did like a good magic story." Then her eyes were on him again, her little smile turning soft. "Oh, sweetie...you're just beat aren't you? You want to talk about it?"

Peter shook his head, knowing despite his lack of fear in this dream that might not be a dream that talking to her about anything was a bad idea. "I'm fine." He told her, voice reserved even to his own ears.

Poppy folded her hands. "It's your dream, Peter." Then she froze, standing abruptly and turning toward one of the bookshelves. "Oh. I…" She moved toward the bookshelf beside their work table and gestured to the wall. "I had one crib about here, I think. I painted little boats on it. Blue boats, so he'd float off the sleep and dream of blue water." The woman's voice had gone soft, almost sad. He was so happy in that crib and it broke me...it just broke me to see it empty."

To his own surprise, Peter felt a stab of sympathy. Empty? Pushing himself to his feet, he started to approach her, glancing over at the closed door and wishing it would open...wishing he didn't have to be alone in this room with this grieving, possibly crazy woman who might or might not have been a dream.

The woman spun around to Peter, reaching out to him with an outstretched hand. "You try and try to keep them safe. All you can do, really...but it's so hard. Your father would know, it's so hard and you can't really keep your children safe." Poppy finally approached him, touching his cheek once more with just her fingertips.

"My father?" He asked in a shaky voice, leaning back a little. She smiled and dropped her arm.

"Or whatever you call him. He'd do anything to keep you safe. And when I tried to tell him what to do…" She shook her head with a little laugh, the same mocking sound as before. "Oh, you know how men are, especially when they start reading about science...they just don't listen anymore. But losing a child, there's nothing worse than that. He knows that...or he will."

"Are you...do you mean Mr. Stark?" Peter's heart thudded in his chest, the fear coming back now. "Why would he know that? Is something going to happen to his baby?" He demanded.

"He's having a dream, right now, that he's lost his boy." She went on, not seeming to hear him. "His little boy...the apple of his eye, that one." Poppy reached out and tapped him on the nose like he was a baby. "Such a sweet boy, ready to be a big brother. But he can't keep his little boy safe because the world wants to take him away and no matter how many monsters he kills, there will always be another one." She leaned in, eyes wide and earnest. "I had a dream like that about my little boy too once. I once dreamed his little legs stopped working...they just stopped one day. And he couldn't walk. And he couldn't stand. And he couldn't speak. And then he couldn't do anything but cry." She turned away from him, moving back toward the place where the crib had been, voice going hard. "Cry and bang on the walls. Bang on the walls for help and bang on the walls for Mamma. Bang, bang bang!"

Poppy shook her head but continued before he could cut in. "And he couldn't even see. In the end he couldn't see me there with him. And then he stopped banging and he stopped crying...he stopped it all once he died. I held him so long he went cold in my arms just like your father is for his little boy...he's holding his boy in his arms but he's cold and still and...he's gone."

Her shoulders were stiff and for a moment they shook...he was sure that she would cry. Could ghosts cry? But instead of sobbing, she gave a little giggle, turning to face him with a clear face once more.

"But that was just a dream. Just a dream. The worst dream. A screaming meemie. But then I woke up. And my boy was safe in his little bed." She put a hand on his shoulder, gesturing for him to turn around, and he did...and they weren't in the room anymore. They were on the landing of his treehouse, standing at the top of the ladder and looking down at the forest. "Your father will wake up, and you'll wake up, and you'll both be safe in your beds. He'd do anything for you, you know? Anything for his boy."

He turned to her just as his senses screamed, his whole body filling with adrenaline that made his fingers and toes prickle. She was different...her face was old and wrinkled, hair graying, eyes a milky white. "What…" He started, taking a step back...but there was nothing there. Nothing under his foot but empty air and he was falling, arm outstretched as he reached for her, but she only watched him, fingers gripping the railing and then…there was something around his neck.

Peter grabbed the rope, his senses guiding his body without his brain seeming to understand what was happening. One moment, something was tightening around his neck. The next, he was falling again, a frayed rope trailing behind him.

Peter gasped as he hit the ground, his breath gone as he blinked up at the ceiling...at the spiral staircase that twisted up to the second-floor landing. Mouth open, he closed his eyes, willing his lungs to work again, right as a hand grabbed his shoulders, yanking him up and into someone's arms and pulling roughly at whatever had been around his already-sore throat until it was pulled over his head, and a soft thump at his side told him that it had landed on the floor.

"Peter! Peter!"

A hand pounded his back and he gasped for air that suddenly came, letting out a ragged cough then dropped his head onto the man's shoulder. Mr. Stark. It was Mr. Stark. And Peter...Peter was in the library at the base of the spiral staircase, shivering in the dark, back aching from the bruise he was sure to have now, a noose attached to a piece of tattered rope at his side.

"Peter!" The man cried again, his large, warm hand pressing against Peter's cheek, and Peter was stunned to feel wetness there, running down his face.

"Mr. Stark?" He asked, voice a little wheezy.

"You fell...I thought...god, Peter." Mr. Stark yanked him forward into his arms again, rocking them both back and forth where they sat on the floor. "What the hell happened? What is that?" He asked, pointing at the noose on the floor without letting go of Peter. The man was crying, Peter realized then. Mr. Stark's shoulders shook as he held him so tightly, and Peter's next words came out in a whisper.

"I had a nightmare...and you did too."

The man pulled away for just a moment, hands resting on Peter's shoulder, and he could see in Mr. Stark's eyes that it was true. They were haunted...red-rimmed and so afraid, and Peter leaned his head against his shoulder again, letting himself be held. "She told me." Peter murmured, words muffled against Mr. Stark's shirt. "She told me you had a nightmare that your boy died and you were holding him but he wouldn't wake up."

A hand came around to the back of his head, holding him close and Mr. Stark sniffed, obviously trying to get a hold of himself. It wasn't working, though. He just held Peter like he had on that battlefield right before the snap that had ended the war with Thanos...like he was amazed that Peter could be alive and like he'd never let him go. After a moment, Mr. Stark pressed a kiss to the side of his head, giving him one last tight squeeze before pulling away just enough to look him up and down, and then at the rope beside them.

"A nightmare?" He confirmed.

Peter nodded. "I was with Poppy. She must have…" He trailed off, touching his tender neck with a finger. Mr. Stark covered Peter's hand with his own, squinting to examine his neck which was already covered in bruises.

"You weren't…" The man hesitated. "You weren't trying to…"

Peter felt his eyes go wide. "No! Of course not! I was asleep and then...then I was falling…" Peter looked up, following the staircase to the top of the landing with his eyes. Halfway between the floor and the landing, a rope dangled, swaying back and forth just a little. Mr. Stark tapped his cheek, regaining his attention.

"Are you okay?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah...just sore."

Mr. Stark snorted a little, eyes wide and incredulous. "I'll bet you are." He ruffled Peter's messy hair, then left his hand on the side of his head, erasing the memory of Poppy's cold fingers. As he stared at Peter, first at his face and then at his neck, he seemed to come to a decision. "That's enough near-death experiences for my taste. We have to get out of this house. We'll leave tomorrow, okay? I don't care what Fury says...we'll find a new place to hide out on our own if we have to."

Peter nodded, wiping at his eyes uselessly. The tears were still falling, no matter how much he wanted them to stop, and his hands shook at his sides, teeth chattering, but not from the cold. Mr. Stark squeezed his shoulder, running a thumb under his eye. "You're okay." He promised softly, but Peter wasn't sure if he was consoling himself or Peter. "You're alright."

"I'm okay." He agreed, then glanced at the moon-lit night. It wasn't like his dream...there were stars in the sky, and a huge full moon lit the trees and fields outside the window. "What time is it?"

"Only about 1. Why don't we get you some water before we head back to bed, huh?"

Peter didn't want to go back to bad. His senses were still making his hair stand on end, hands shaking as Mr. Stark pulled him to his feet, a gentle hand coming around to touch his back. Still, he followed the man to the kitchen, bringing a hand up to rub at his neck.

"Do you want to call Bruce?" Mr. Stark asked, giving him a worried look. "He can take another look at you."

"Maybe after we're out of here," Peter suggested, yawning a little but trying to stifle it. It was still dark out, his senses seemed to be reminding him. This house wasn't safe after dark. He shuddered, moving a little closer to Mr. Stark who threw an arm over his shoulders. They couldn't get him if Mr. Stark was with him.

"We'll pack in the morning, okay? We can be gone by noon."

Peter nodded, but the two froze as Mr. Stark flipped on the light, the man's arm tightening around Peter protectively. Steve sat at the kitchen table, head in his hands, shoulders slumped.

"Steve?" Mr. Stark called, pulling Peter backward just a little. Peter started to shrug him off and move closer, but Mr. Stark's fingers closed around his shirt and he sent Peter a sharp look. "Stay," he mouthed before turning back to Peter. "Rogers? Hey! You sleepwalking again?"

Steve turned to them, blinking in surprise, then shook his head. "Oh." He muttered, eyes flicking briefly to Peter. "I...I thought…" Steve rubbed a rueful hand over his face. "I thought you were Cassie."

"What?" Peter glanced over at Mr. Stark, cocking his head.

"I thought...she was saying something about a tea party." Steve sighed. "Or maybe I was sleepwalking again. I keep having these weird dreams..."

Mr. Stark seemed to relax a little, patting Peter on the back before moving over to the refrigerator. "We're getting out of this house. Tomorrow." He told the other man as Peter stepped inside the kitchen, keeping a watchful eye on Steve. He didn't see Poppy anywhere...still, he couldn't help being nervous. Something was wrong. The house wasn't going to just let them leave...he could feel it in his chest. Poppy wouldn't just let them leave.

"Peter? Are you okay?" Steve was watching him closely, obviously worried.

"Yeah, I just…" Peter tried to give him a smile, taking the glass of water that Mr. Stark handed him with a muttered thanks. "Cassie was in here?"

"I don't know." Steve shook his head, running his hand through his hair. Usually, his hair was perfectly slicked back and styled...now it stood on end, an obvious sign of his frustration. "I keep having these dreams and I never...it's hard to know what's real sometimes." It obviously pained him to admit it, and Peter felt for him...he knew what it was like to wonder what was real. To feel like he was going crazy. But he couldn't make himself say any of that...couldn't bring himself to reassure Steve when something was so obviously wrong. He could feel it in his chest and up and down his spine. More than ever, he wished they'd been able to set up Friday so he could ask where everyone was. Where Cassie was.

Poppy wasn't going to let them leave. She wanted them to stay. Wanted Peter to stay. His brain worked overtime as he stared at his glass of water. The room with the red door they'd never been able to open. The treehouse with the red bird. The room where he'd worked with Mr. Stark with the red rose. The room Steve had been in with the red chair. It all meant something. These rooms that they'd spent so much time in...the way Peter had felt after leaving the treehouse...how he'd forget to eat. How Steve had spent so much time alone and...how he'd been talking to someone. There were dots he just couldn't figure out how to connect.

Until he looked at the counter where Cassie always kept her teacup...her cup of stars. It wasn't there. Blinking in confusion, he put his own water down and moved over to the counter, passing both Mr. Stark and Steve without a word.

"Kiddo? You okay?" Mr. Stark asked. But he couldn't bring himself to answer. Something was wrong.

The house wasn't going to let them go. Not without a fight. Poppy wanted them to stay.

Peter stared at the empty counter, then over at the bags. He opened one, ignoring how his hand shook, then found himself staring at an empty box of rat poison.

Rat poison. Cassie. A tea party.

Poppy urging him to wake up.

The glass hit the floor, shattering by his bare feet and probably cutting him, but he didn't care. Ignoring Mr. Stark and Steve as they called after him, he shoved his way past them and ran, flat out, heart pounding. The red room! Cassie was in the red room! The treehouse and the room with the vase and Steve's reading room...they'd all been in the red room the whole time!

"Peter!" Mr. Stark called, following after him, but he couldn't slow down or explain...couldn't make himself speak at all as he moved through the living room and then into the library. The rooms were cold...full. Loud. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see figures peeking through doorways, watching him run. But he didn't care. Not about any of them.

He only cared about Cassie.

Peter leapt, grabbing the railing and pulling himself upright, wishing he had his webshooters as he landed on his toes, then leapt to the next level of the spiral staircase until he was on the landing, Mr. Stark's feet pounding as he raced after him.

The door to the red room was open. Peter ran as if in slow motion, blood roaring in his ears as he ran down the corridor that seemed to only get longer the faster he ran. But finally, finally, he was able to shove open the door. Inside, the walls seemed to be covered in mold, the wallpaper covered in creeping vines with red flowers. Peter didn't care about any of that, though. He only cared about the girl sitting at one end of the table, a teacup with stars painted on the sides in her hands. Beside her, Poppy knelt down, a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Take a drink, sugar, and you'll wake up." The woman urged. Cassie stared into the teacup, bringing it closer and closer to her lips…

"Don't!" Peter screamed, reaching her just in time to knock it out of her hands. Cassie gasped, jerking backwards in her chair, and the cup shattered on the floor just like his glass of water. "Cassie? Did you drink any?" He demanded, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her.

As if waking up from a dream, Cassie blinked at him, then shook her head, eyes filling with tears. "Where...where are we?" She asked, looking around the room and gripping Peter's arm with a shaky hand. "I was in the treehouse and…"

"Come on." He urged, pulling her to his feet just in time for Mr. Stark to reach the door, panting a little and looking at the room in confusion.

"Is this the…" But the man cut himself off, stiffening when he caught sight of the third person in the room. Poppy stood to her full height, eyes flashing, hands in fists at her sides. "Pete, is she…"

Peter grabbed Cassie's arm and pushed her behind him, taking a step back toward the door. "We're leaving." He told Poppy, making his voice firm and trying to stop it from shaking. Behind him, he heard Mr. Stark move closer.

"Come on, kid. Let's go." Mr. Stark called, moving into the room. Poppy turned to him, looking past Peter and Cassie with a sad smile.

"You can't protect him out there."

"Cassie, go find your dad and wake him up. Hurry." Mr. Stark urged, and Peter heard her retreating footsteps as Mr. Stark put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him backward and angling his body in front of Peter's. "Let's go. We'll get our stuff later."

"You try and you try to keep them safe but you can't. You can't keep them safe, no matter how hard you try." She shook her head, reaching out to them...beseeching them. "All of this could be a dream. You can still wake up…"

"Yeah, I don't think so." Mr. Stark snapped, pulling Peter closer and leading both of them toward the door behind them. "We're getting the fuck out of this place."

"They'll take him away. They'll take him away from you! You can't keep him safe!"

Mr. Stark faltered for just a moment, then shook his head, pulling them through the red door, then slamming it shut, as if that could keep her inside. "Come on." He urged, pushing Peter toward the staircase. Together, they stumbled onto the spiral staircase, Peter glancing back, but Mr. Stark shook his head. "Don't look back, kid. Just go."

"I think...I think she lost her son." Peter started to explain, but Mr. Stark shook his head.

"Don't care. I'm not losing mine. Now come on!"

Peter started to pause, trying to take that in, but he was distracted by Steve who stood in the middle of the living room. "Peter? Tony, what…"

"We have to get Rhodey! Did Cassie…" Before Mr. Stark could finish his sentence, Cassie started to run down the stairs, dragging her tired-looking father.

"What's going on?" Scott asked through a yawn, one hand in Cassie's as she pulled him along with her.

"Go start the car! Take Cassie. I'm going to go get Rhodey!" Mr. Stark called, pointing to the front door. "Peter, go with…"

"No way!" Peter cried. "I'm not leaving you in here!"

It seemed like the man was about to argue, but instead, he just shook his head, jerking his chin for Peter to follow. "Fine. Let's go. Stay close."

Peter could hear Cassie telling her father and Steve what had happened, but all he cared about at the moment was waking Rhodey and getting out of Hill House. As they reached the second-floor landing, Peter came to a sliding stop, Mr. Stark barely a step behind him as he bumped into his back. One of the doors opened, and a boy in a wheelchair rolled himself out, milky eyes coming up to look at the two of them. "I think that's…"

"Don't care." Mr. Stark grabbed his arm and tugged him forward. "We've got one mission, Pete, and that's to get the hell out of here. Now come on!"

Peter stood outside of Jim's room while Mr. Stark rushed in, keeping an eye out for Poppy. It only took a moment for the man to tug and grumbling, obviously exhausted Rhodey out of bed. Peter was peeking in, watching as Mr. Stark helped Rhodey with his braces, when he remembered his phone. "Oh...I'll be right back!" He called, turning to run to his room.

"Peter!" Mr. Stark snapped, but Peter was already on his way down the hall.

"Get down the stairs! I'll be right there!'

The man swore behind him as Peter pulled his bedroom door open, heading straight for his bedside table where his phone sat. Grabbing it and dropping it in his pocket, he turned, ready to run once more when he heard the whisper from the horn beside his bed. "Peter...Peter, wait!" It called, the voice raspy and weak, but he didn't care. He didn't have time to sit and try to figure out who was calling him.

Peter pulled the door open, finding himself face to face with Mr. Stark who reached out, grabbing his arm and yanking him forward. "Let's go!" He ordered. "I thought you wanted out of this place!"

"I had to get my phone!"

The man rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I would have gotten you a new phone!"

Rhodey was making his way down the stairs when they caught up, and he turned to them with a lifted eyebrow. "Are you two seeing that?"

Peter followed his gaze and faltered a little, spotting Poppy in the living room at the base of the stairs. She was staring straight at Tony, coming closer as Rhodey limped to the bottom landing, then down the last two stairs to the main floor. "Just keep going." Mr. Stark urged, pushing the two of them toward the front door that still stood open. Outside, the cars sat in the driveway, both running and waiting for them.

"You can't protect him!" She practically begged. She was old again, face partially decayed as she reached out her hands to them. "You try and you try but you can't protect him! You can still wake up. Both of you! This could all be a dream, a screaming meemie, and you can wake up and you can keep him safe forever! If you take him out there, they'll get him! The world will get him and they'll tear him apart, and you'll lose him!"

Mr. Stark wrapped an arm around Peter's shoulders, pulling away from Poppy. "You can't have my kid. You understand me? We're leaving. You can have your house but you're not getting my kid."

"You can still wake up…"

"I'm awake!" Mr. Stark snapped. "You're not awake. You're dead. Your child is dead, and you're dead and I'm sorry, I really am." He sounded it for a moment as he ushered Peter toward the door. "But you can't have mine."

And then they were outside, the huge door slamming shut behind them, and Tony was opening the back door to the car that Steve was driving, Rhodey, Scott, and Cassie ready to go in the other car. Peter climbed in, scooting over as quickly as he could so that Mr. Stark could get in, and then Mr. Stark's arms were around him, a hand pressed to the back of his head just like earlier. How long had it been? It felt like hours but Peter knew it couldn't have been that long since he'd woken up on the floor of the library at the foot of the spiral staircase.

"Pete?" Mr. Stark asked, pulling away just long enough to touch Peter's cheek. "You okay?"

Peter nodded as they drove down the drive, glancing back through the back windshield and staring at the house he hoped he never saw again. In the window, Poppy placed her hand against the glass, watching them leave, and he shuddered a little. "Yeah...I'm good. Are you…"

"I'm fine, kid." Mr. Stark told him with an affectionate eye roll, ruffling his hair and chuckling. As Steve pulled up to the gate, climbing out to unlock it, Peter curled up in the back seat, resting his head on Mr. Stark's shoulder.

"So…" Peter muttered, watching Steve approach the gate on foot at a jog. "I'm your...uh...your child?"

The man snorted, pressing a kiss to the top of Peter's head. "Surely you knew that by now, Pete."

Peter shrugged, feeling giddy with relief as Steve climbed back into the car, hitting the gas and driving through the front gate, leaving Hill House in the dust. "It's just good to hear." He murmured, and Mr. Stark scooted over a little, pulling Peter down to lay his head in his lap, a hand running through his hair.

"Get some sleep, buddy. We've still got a ways to go before we get to the closest hotel."

"Are you sure Nick Fury is okay with us leaving?"

"Hey, if he has a problem with it, he can go live in that creepy-ass house and we'll stay at his place.

And as Steve pulled off the drive and onto the road, Peter felt his senses go silent for the first time in what felt like months. Closing his eyes, he slipped easily into sleep with Mr. Stark's fingers gently working their way through his hair.

_The End_

_ **Thank you for reading! ** _


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